


What's Up, Danger?

by HiddenBookShelf



Category: Spider-Gwen (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Ultimateverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Spectacular Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Being Spider-man ruins everything, Being a Superhero stinks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gwen Stacy Lives, Gwen Stacy is Spider-Man, Jealous Harry Osborn, Mentioned May Parker (Spider-Man), Minor Harry Osborn/Peter Parker, Secrets, Spider-man Year 1, Teen Peter Parker, Tragedy, Ultimate Spider-Man - Freeform, Worried May Parker (Spider-Man)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2019-11-04 14:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 67,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17900186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenBookShelf/pseuds/HiddenBookShelf
Summary: No one ever told him that being a superhero was hard. Nothing prepared him for what it was like to risk his life ever day for strangers. But with the great power also came the great responsibility; and he'd carry that burden, even if it meant hurting the ones he cared about the most.Because nothing could ever prepare him for what being a hero really meant.





	1. Chasing Shadows

Chapter one:

Peter looked down at the mugger that he had webbed up. The man had done a number on the unconscious victim also in the alleyway. Peter knelt beside the victim and rummaged through the papers that were now strewn about the pavement, getting wet by the cold, misty New York morning. If he hurried and didn’t take his time here, he could make it to Midtown in just enough time to be in his seat before the first bell rung. He couldn’t afford to be late today. There was a big test that he _couldn’t_ fail first period… But he couldn’t let this one go. Usually he left a note behind for the police to take the guys in but this time it was different.

The mugging wasn’t normal. He hadn’t been doing this for more than year, but he knew enough about mugging patterns by that point. They were random more often than not and they were hardly ever personal. This particular one was different. It didn’t follow the usual pattern. The mugger knew his victim and hadn’t been after anything. This… this was a hit, and he had to know why. If something was brewing in his city, he had to know about it.

He picked through the papers absently. It was weird thought… _His_ city. It had always been his city in the sense that it was his home and where he had grown up, for better or worse. But when did New York become his problem? He picked up a stapled bundle of the paper. The bottom sheet was a destroyed, but the others were fine. He flipped through it absently. He knew the answer to that question. It became his problem when his uncle died in his arms. He had taken up the responsibility of protecting New York on that night. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said to the downed mugger, who returned his words with an angry and pained grunt. Peter tapped the man with his foot. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it was hard enough to tell the man that he better not try anything. In the distance, he heard the police sirens. Someone in one of the nearby buildings must have heard the commotion and called the cops. That was he cue to get out of there. He sighed and webbed the packet to the wall. They would know what to do with it.

He took one last look at the paper and cocked his head when he recognized a name on it. “Fisk…?”

“Spider-man! Put your hands up!”

Peter groaned and complied. He didn’t need bullets flying everywhere; not when there were civilians who couldn’t dodge. “Captain Stacy!” he greeted. “Long time, no see! How are ya?”

“On your knees!” Stacy snapped, aiming his gun for Peter’s chest.

Peter suppressed a sigh and he was glad for the mask hiding his face. The last thing he needed was the police captain seeing him with an attitude. “Wish I could, sir, but you see… I’m late.” He knew Stacy wouldn’t fire. There were two people in the alley who could get hit. No one wanted any stray bullets hitting anyone. “I think this was a hit,” he said and fired a web, yanking up and out of sight.

 _Now_ he was going to be late. It didn’t matter how quickly he could cross from one end of Manhattan to the other; he wouldn’t make it in time. He let his body fall into the regular and all too familiar motions as he tried to sort through what he had learned. He hadn’t gotten much from the papers. Someone was working for or with Fisk. What he didn’t really understand was why anyone would be going after the man. Sure, he was rich and powerful, but as far as Peter knew, the guy was as straight an arrow as one could be while still being ridiculously wealthy.

He shot a web and yanked up, propelling himself over a building with grace and ease. His powers still amazed him. Even though he had gotten used to it, when he leapt over buildings with the grace of a gazelle, he still couldn’t believe that these powers were his.

He’d have to do some research about Fisk and why anyone would be going after his workers for any reason. It was possible that Fisk had nothing to do with the hit. Maybe the victim had stolen the mugger’s girlfriend and now he had a score to settle. It didn’t matter, he supposed. Wrong was wrong for any reason; he just wanted to know what that reason was. Maybe it wasn’t his place to find out, but it beat studying for the math test he had tomorrow…

 _Test!_ He landed on the back of the school yard on the football field just as the bell rang out, signaling the beginning of the day. He cursed as he ran to the gym locker room to throw on some clothes the he stored there over his suit. In his rush, he almost forgot to remove the gloves as he raced through the halls. Maybe his science teacher would have mercy. He was only a few minutes late. He couldn’t afford another tardy. If he got detention, Aunt May would ground him; and for him, _grounding_ had a few extra connotations.

He ran through the halls and skidded into his classroom while his teacher had her back turned to the class. She was writing the start time on the board and he snuck as quiet as a mouse to his seat. Harry Osborn eyed him as he did. Peter offered him a guilty grin and Harry lifted an eyebrow.

“Mr. Parker,” the teacher said without even turning. “Fashionably late, as per usual.” Peter said nothing electing instead to push out a small cough. “I’m glad you take your education so seriously.” She turned around. “Office, now.”

“Mrs. Castle…” Peter started as he stood. He knew he wasn’t getting out of this, but he had to try, at least. _I was stopping a murder!_ He wanted to shout out the truth, but he didn’t. Life had taught him that he needed to keep everything on the downlow about his powers. No one else needed to know. He couldn’t afford to let anyone else find out. His problems were his alone.

He walked towards the front of the class to receive his referral while someone whistled the Funeral March quietly under their breath. Peter passed Gwen Stacy’s desk as he did. She offered him a sympathetic smile and he took it with a small nod. He grabbed the blue slip from his teacher’s hand gently, trying not to offend in any way.

“Peter,” she said quietly, “you are a brilliant kid. Don’t throw it away doing whatever you’re doing.”

He looked down at the slip and smiled sheepishly before turning and heading back to his seat to gather his things. He prepared himself to hear the same speech from the principal. He had heard it all before. He was a good kid. He had a mind that he shouldn’t waste. He was gifted and he needed to take his education seriously. He’d never get into college with how he was going. He listened to the principal use those same arguments before he was sentenced to detention for the remainder of the period. He wouldn’t mind the detention if May hadn’t been called. Now he would have to deal with that on top of everything else.

When the bell rang, Peter walked out of detention and ran straight into Harry. “I smoothed things over with Mrs. Castle,” he said as he helped Peter pick up the books he had dropped upon collision. “She’ll give you a chance to retake that test.”

Peter laughed. “ _You_ are a Godsend,” he said with a smile. Harry patted him on the back. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Where were you this morning? I called to ask if you needed a ride, but May said you were already gone.” Peter’s sour mood dampened more at the mention of his aunt. He hated that he had probably made her worry. Everything about being Spider-man made her worry. She hated that he was out at all hours and his grades were slipping and he couldn’t keep a job to save his life. She probably thought he was getting into drugs. _Spider-man_ is _a drug,_ he thought.

“I just… walked…” Peter said with a shrug.

“You _walked?_ ” Harry gasped. Peter gave him a half grin. “Peter, next time just wait for me to pick you up.” Peter smiled fully. He didn’t know where he’d be without Harry at this point. He was a good anchor in his life. He spent so much time protecting other people, it was good to have someone that worried about him so much, but he also didn’t have to worry so much about.

The two said their good-byes and he went to his classes until the bell rang, signaling lunch. He moved quickly to the cafeteria. It was better for him to be seated in his spot before Flash Thompson got there. He’d rather _not_ deal with that right now. He got his food and moved to his spot, keeping his head down until Harry sat on the other side of the table. Neither spoke as they ate their food. It was just enough to be in each other’s company.

Peter poked at the freeze dried, rehydrated mashed potatoes on his plate before looking up at Harry. “Do you know anything about Wilson Fisk?” he asked. Harry nearly choked on his food. “Sorry…”

He shook his head, grabbing his water to steady himself. “Y-yeah, no… no problem.” He swallowed a large gulp of water. “Why do you want to know about Mr. Fisk?”

Peter shrugged. “No real reason,” he lied. He hated lying to his friend, but he needed to start researching this. Someone was trying to kill someone else and he was the best person to try and stop it. “I’m just doing a paper on him and thought maybe you might have some insider information.”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know much. Dad keeps his personal and professional business separate. I think they are working on negotiating some contracts for some land on the bay. Fisk wants to secure building contracts for some warehouses, I think, and dad’ll give him some space in a few of them for a lower price.”

“Land?” Peter asked, shaking his head. Could this really be about some land deals? Before Harry could answer, his phone rang. He smiled apologetically at Peter and took the call. Peter tried not to eavesdrop. If it was something he needed to know, Harry would tell him. After a moment, Harry stood from the table and moved to the side away from all the noise. Just as soon as Harry got up, Peter’s spider senses went up, but it wasn’t high. He didn’t dodge the water bottle that was hurled at his head. Sometimes he needed to take a few hits. A year ago, he couldn’t dodge those hits. He shouldn’t be able to dodge them now.

“Hey, Parker!” Flash boomed, sitting beside him and pulling him close as he put his arm over his shoulder. “How’d your test go?” His group of jocks laughed at the joke that wasn’t even that funny.

“It’ll go pretty well tomorrow,” Peter grumbled. “How’d yours go? Did all that tutoring help?”

The good humor in Flash’s eyes faded and his grip got firmer. “You think you’re funny, Parker?”

“No,” Peter grumbled. The last thing he needed was to get into a fight. He _really_ didn’t need another referral today. Flash’s grip on his shoulder got tighter. Peter gave him a pity wince so that he thought he was doing something.

“You wanna meet me out back?”

“Hey, Flash!” The boys turned to a girl with platinum blonde hair walking towards them. “Why don’t you and I head out. You’ve got an English test next period, don’t you?”

Flash narrowed his eyes. “Need a girl to fight your battles, Parker?”

“I’m not embarrassed by that,” Peter said. Flash smiled at him and patted his shoulder before standing.

“Library?” he asked Gwen. She nodded and he started for the door, his group following in tow.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah…” He avoided her gaze. “Thanks.”

She smiled. “Don’t mention it.” She waved him off and trailed after Flash and his group. Peter rubbed his shoulder. The move wasn’t because Flash had managed to hurt him. It was more for show than anything else. He rested his head on the table and waited patiently for Harry to return. His food remained untouched until the bell rang. The cafeteria went into an organized frenzy and he watched the others move around before Harry came back to pick up his tray.

“Anything exciting happen?” he asked Peter. He only got a shrug in response. Harry knew that Flash had probably bothered him while he was alone. He didn’t want to admit that Gwen had to assist in that. He could take Flash in a heartbeat. He could do all these things, but he didn’t. He had chosen to remain the weak, pathetic kid instead of using his powers for personal gain. He finally looked up at Harry and noticed that his friend’s face was paler than usual.

“Harry? Everything okay?”

“Yeah… no, not really…” he said. “That was my dad. One of his employees was attacked by an assassin and Spider-man this morning…”

 

Peter hadn’t been able to focus on anything throughout the rest of the day and he was worried that his grades had suffered for this, but how could he? He was now a suspect in the assault and attempted murder of one of Mr. Osborn’s employees. He wanted to talk to Harry about it, but he didn’t know how to breech the subject. He wanted to go to Harry’s house that afternoon, but he knew he needed to go home. May was going to kill him and he’d rather deal with that. After he had changed out of his clothes and got his suit on, he snuck out of the school yard and took to the buildings.

How had this happened? He knew that the police didn’t exactly like him, but they had never tried to pin an assault on him. He clenched his fists as he fled through the air. While his mind worked on that, another part tried to come up with a good excuse as to why he was late this morning. May wouldn’t buy any of it, but he wanted to try and offer her something; _anything_ to put her mind at ease. Ever since Ben had died, she had been a wreck whenever he didn’t come home, or whenever he came home in pain.

While his mind was busy, his spider senses shot up to about an 8. He didn’t have time to dodge the incoming attack that disrupted his flight pattern and sent him hurling into the nearest building. He slammed into the wall and then hit the ground hard. He didn’t even see what had hit him. He stood slowly and looked for the person who had came after him, but he saw no one.

His senses spiked and he wheeled around in time to dodge the end of a spear. He leapt away from his attacker and landed to face her. He was surprised that she was in fact a female. He hadn’t seen too many of them in his battles thus far. She was wearing a rather plain, black suit with her black hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked young; only a few years older than him and her face was partial obscured by a white hand print over the right side of her face. “Hey, whoever you are—” he started, but she moved like any trained fighter and swung the spear at him. He backflipped back, bounding away from the attack.

She was fast; he’d give her that, but she didn’t seem to have the powers he did. What she did have, though, was either bravery or stupidity, because she kept coming after him. He jumped away from the tip of the spear, but she outmaneuvered him. He was still getting the hang of fighting people who could fight back. His usual targets of muggers and petty thieves didn’t usually put up much of a fight. This woman, however, was determined to unbalance him. He shot web globs at her, but she pranced around them like a ballerina. They danced, but he didn’t even know why they were fighting. “Look, lady, whatever I did, I’m sorry!” he snapped just before she landed a punch to his face. He was sent into the wall. The punch was harder than he had been expecting. Beneath that suit, she must have had some powerful muscles.

She fought well and what was worse, she fought like him. Everything about the way she moved was reminiscent of his fighting style, mixed with advanced martial arts and dancing. She was light on her feet. As he dodged another kick, he realized that she was herding him into an alleyway. He tried to dodge away, but she blocked him with the spear and threw him back, where he summersaulted on the cold pavement. The way she had nothing to say unnerved him. She had hardly even made a sound since their fight had started.

He looked up the sides of the buildings on either side of them. It seemed odd that she would herd him this way. He could easily escape the onslaught and she would never be able to traverse the steps of the fire escape in time to catch him. He kicked out, sending his attacker back several feet. “Sorry, but this is tedious. _And_ I’m late!” he added, hoping she didn’t mind that he was ducking out early. He jumped onto the wall and crawled up, keeping his body tightly close to the bricks. He expected her to shout out in annoyance, but she remained as silent as she had been since their fight started.

He pulled himself onto the rooftop and crouched, panting. That could have gone better. He looked down at the alley to find that his assailant had gone. He shook his head slowly. Whatever she had wanted, clearly it hadn’t been important enough for her to stick around. He sighed and looked up at the sky. It wasn’t getting dark yet, so he figured he could make it back and be able to blame it on a delayed subway or bus.

As he stood up and prepared to fire a web, a warped voice spoke to him from the roof on the other side of the alleyway. “Fisk sends his regards,” the mechanical voice hissed. Peter’s senses sprang to the point where it physically hurt, and the roof was suddenly ablaze with machine gun fire. Peter didn’t get a good look at this new attacker before he was forced to dodge a hail of bullets. Now he knew why she had herded him into the alley. She had wanted him on the roof.

He ran towards the edge of the roof and just as he lunged off the roof, a bullet tore through his shoulder. He shouted, but tried to ignore the pain. He didn’t want to be around to see who had set up the trap. He fired a web and yanked. Black dots sprang into his vision as another bullet ripped through his leg. Unable to keep up the swinging, Peter fell to the ground and half ran, half fell forward. All thoughts of Aunt May and how late he was, or the tests he had done today and would do the next day faded from his mind. Somewhere deep down, he knew his attackers weren’t following him. Not many people survived one gun shot, let alone two. The good thing about being so new to this game was that not many people knew how he worked.

The bad thing was that he was inexperienced enough to be lured into traps and shot at.

Peter stumbled and fell over a laid-out trash bag in another alleyway. He didn’t move. Already his healing factor was working on the entrance and exit wounds of the bullets, but the blood loss was disconcerting. He tried to stand, but he slipped on his own blood that had mixed with the water on the ground. He hit the ground hard and remained there. _I’ll just… rest my eyes for a minute…_ he thought drowsily. As he closed his eyes, he felt his phone vibrate in its pouch.


	2. I'm So Used to Being in the Wrong

 

> Chapter Two: I'm So Used to Being in the Wrong

Fisk clenched and unclenched his massive fists as he stared out the window of his office. The alleged hit this morning hadn’t shaken him, but it had annoyed him. Already people were trying to stop this deal between him and Osborn. It made sense, but that didn’t mean he liked it. The construction contracts were in Hammerhead’s territory and he didn’t like the fact that Fisk was getting his hands on land that wasn’t his territory.

The pen clicked in his hand as he stared out. He should have given up his life of crime long before now. He had promised her; but it was hard. The more he tried to do things by the book, the harder it became. He sighed and looked away from the window, only to find himself standing face to face with a white masked figure with red eyes. He wasn’t shocked or annoyed by this figure, crossing his massive arms to study it. The figure was wearing white armor with a hood over the mask.

“Spider-Man is taken care of,” Ghost said.

Fisk looked behind Ghost, then to the floor by his feet, and then he shook his head with a soft _tsk_. “Where is the body?” he asked. Ever since this spider themed boy who called himself a hero had come onto the scene, it was becoming harder to follow all the rules of the law. He hadn’t wanted to get the Spider-man’s attention if he could avoid it.

“He was shot multiple times…” Ghost explained. “His body is probably in an alley, waiting to be picked up by the trash collectors.”

He wanted to laugh at his naïve assassin. She was good at what she did, but she also wasn’t used to metahumans. “He isn’t dead until I have his body at my feet!” he snapped. “Your job is not finished!”

“He _is_ dead,” Ghost argued.

Fisk clenched his fists as his anger rose. Spider-man had done a number on his business without even realizing it. He hated to know what that child would do if he knew what he was fighting. “Bring me his body.”

Ghost nodded slowly and turned, ghosting with the movement. It was odd to watch the assassin move. Every move she made left an echo of where she had been. It was reminiscent of when someone closed his eyes against a bright light and the imprint was left on his eyes for a moment. He knew Ghost meant well, but he wanted her to understand that the job would not be finished until he saw Spider-man’s body and he had burned it. That was the only way to be sure that he wasn’t coming back. As Ghost started for the door, a curtesy that she used merely for his comfort as she didn’t need one, it opened, revealing his other worker. All his anger melted away at the sight of the girl in the doorway.

He smiled. “Good evening,” he said, moving his hands in the signs for the phrase. His massive arms were not made for American Sign Language, and it was unneeded with her lip-reading ability, but he still did it for the same reason that Ghost used doors when he didn’t need to.

She moved her hand to imitate the Spider-man’s webbing motion and then she held her left hand palm down while her right was palm up before swapping the palm positions by rolling her wrists. The movements were accompanied by a questioning look on her face. “ _Is Spider-man dead?_ ” she signed.

Fisk shook his head slowly. He didn’t know how to explain that Ghost thought she had done the deed correctly, but he doubted it in sign. He had practically raised the girl, but he didn’t know the more complicated signs. “I don’t think so,” he said, making sure he was facing her so she could read his lips.

She rolled her eyes.

“Tell her it _will_ be done,” Ghost snapped before walking out in a huff. She didn’t bother to use the door this time. She just passed through the wall as if it weren’t even there. Fisk sighed. She was angry that he doubted her. But he had to be diligent. Spider-man had appeared one day and they needed him to disappear.

Fisk turned back to the deaf girl. “He will,” he said to her with a slow nod. “Don’t worry… he will.”

 

Peter opened his eyes slowly. Everything hurt. His muscles were sore and his body bruised. Because his powers had more pressing injuries to heal, the bruises he had gotten from the fall weren't on the priority list; which meant that while he hadn't bled out while unconscious, he didn't feel much better than when he had passed out. Every bone and all joints were stiff and pained. The chill in the air did nothing to help his aches and pains. He slowly lifted his body to his hands and knees. It was dark, but the clouds in the sky prevented him from seeing how late it really was.

He rocked back to sit on the wet ground and cradled his throbbing head. That really could have gone better. He should have tried harder to fight that silent woman. He looked at the blood that covered his suit and sighed. He'd have to wash it again without turning everything red this time. He could use the shower. Luckily, he had an older suit still.   
  
There was a buzzing and his first thought was his senses. He tensed and looked around, but no one was there. Fisk sends his regards... did Fisk believe that he had tried to kill that man? He had tried to build a reputation for Spider-Man that would prevent this from happening. His alter ego didn't kill; but the police and the media were determined to soil the good name he was trying to build.   
  
The buzzing started again, and he realized with a jolt that it was his phone going off. He cursed and pulled it out. It was lucky to have survived the fall with only a new crack on the screen. He had missed the newest phone call and his eyes widened as he realized how many he had actually missed. He scrolled through the dozens of calls from Harry, Aunt May, Mr. Osborn, even Gwen Stacy and a few numbers that weren't programmed into his phone. Those probably belonged to police  
  
He gripped his phone and bowed his head, feeling awful. May was probably freaking out. The worst part about it was that all her images of him lying face down in an alley, shot by some criminal were true. That was exactly where he had been, and if he didn't have powers, they'd be finding his body here soon. He sighed and went to call May. She had to be the first person he called. He was okay and she needed to know that.   
  
As he went to dial her number, his phone rang again. Harry. He answered. "Hey..." he whispered.   
  
Harry gasped on the other end. "Peter? Oh, thank God! Are you okay?"   
  
He rubbed his head. Even Harry sounded like he was worried sick about him. Had he been... crying? Peter decided to believe he was imagining how raw his friend's voice sounded. "Y-yeah, I'm fine," he said, trying not to sound like his head was splitting open and his muscles had been put through the wringing.   
  
Harry took a deep breath. "Pete... do you have any idea what time it is?"   
  
Peter looked up at the sky. The moon was still blocked out, leaving him to wonder why that even mattered. He was already late for dinner. Why did it matter how late? "I dunno... eight or nine?"   
  
"It’s almost one, Peter!"   
  
Peter froze and his mouth went dry. One? He looked down at his phone and sure enough, the time read 12:52. He hadn't noticed it through the mass amount of calls. He had been unconscious for over six hours. It was a miracle no one had tried to unmask him and it was a good thing he hadn't been carrying anything on his person.   
  
"Where are you?"   
  
He looked around and realized with a sickening jolt that he didn't know the answer to that question. "I... I'm not sure..." he admitted sheepishly. Now he was glad that it was Harry who got him first. Having to explain to May that he didn't know where he was would have been quite the issue.   
  
"Stay where you are. I can track your phone now that I've got you on the line."   
  
"Harry... I'll get home myself," he tried to reason. The last thing he needed was Harry's limo driver picking him up bloodied and fully costumed.   
  
"You don't even know where you are!"   
  
"It's fine."   
  
"It's not fine! You know your Aunt is worried to death, right? She's got half the New York City Police Department out there looking for you!" Peter rubbed his forehead with a soft groan. "Peter... what's going on with you?"   
  
"Nothing. I just..." he didn't have a good excuse this time. The only way he could logically explain this was to pretend he had done it intentionally. He closed his eyes. "After everything that happened today, I just needed to clear my head, ya know? I turned off my phone and lost track of time..." He hated it. He hated that he had to make them believe that he had intentionally avoided everyone he cared about for several hours without so much as a single phone call or text. He had to make it seem like he was selfish and inconsiderate to them.   
  
"Right..." Harry didn't believe him. He could tell that by his friend's tone.   
  
"I'll get home myself, Harry," Peter insisted. Harry sighed deeply. he could tell that Harry didn't want to leave it at that, but Peter wasn't going to take no for an answer.   
  
"Fine..." he said after a moment of silence. Peter went to hang up, deciding that he had made May wait too long already. As he reached for the end call button, Harry spoke again. "Pete... if you're in some kind of trouble, there are people out there who can help you."   
  
Peter closed his eyes. "Thanks... I'll see you tomorrow..." He hung up and hung his head, hating himself and the people who had attacked him. With his stomach in knots, he stood, ignoring the pain and stiffness in his body, and dialed Aunt May.   
  
She picked up before the first ring even finished. "Peter?!" She gasped and his stomach knotted even further. Unlike Harry, he could tell without a doubt that she had been crying. "Oh God, Peter? Are you okay? Where have you been?" Her voice was frantic, and it only made him sick to think that he was the cause of her concern.   
  
"I'm fine, Aunt May," he said, trying to keep any soreness out of his voice. He'd rather her be furious at him than worried sick. "I'm sorry... I'm on my way home." And he was. After assuring her that he was fine, she reluctantly hung up and he was left with his own thoughts. As he swung through the area towards his house, he tried to come up with some excuse. He didn’t want anyone to think that he was just being selfish, but how else would he explain hours of radio silence? How else would he explain being out until one in the morning on a school night after being late to school that morning?

He landed on the apartment building across the street from his own. A few police cars were parked outside, and it reminded him of when he had come home the night Ben died. He sighed and walked to where he kept a backpack of clothes for times like this when he couldn’t sneak inside. He removed his suit fully and changed into street clothes. He sighed and jumped from the building. Landing sent a shock wave of pain from his ankles on up, but he gritted his teeth and moved forward without stopping.

The elevator ride to his apartment was painfully slow and all too fast at the same time. He didn’t want to face what he had done, but he also didn’t want May to worry about him anymore. As he stepped out of the elevator, he came face to face with Captain Stacy. Peter averted his gaze from the white-haired man staring down at him. “Peter,” he said with an accusing tone. Peter flinched.

“Hello, Officer,” he muttered, unsure if Gwen had ever introduced him to her father. He had had plenty of run-ins with Captain Stacy as Spider-man, but he didn’t want to say Mr. Stacy’s name without Peter Parker having a reason to know it.

Stacy crossed his arms and looked down at him. “You best get in there, son,” he said. Peter nodded and moved to walk past him, but Stacy grabbed his shoulder. “She’s been worried sick about you. I’m not going to ask what you’ve been doing out there, but you would do well to face what you’ve done.”

Peter looked up at him and offered him the smallest of smiles. Everyone at the station was aware of Ben’s death and how it had gone down for them. He was sure this was normal. Kids who lost their parental figure probably acted out. He didn’t know what else to say, so he just walked on by. Before he reached the door, he turned around. “Sir…?” he asked. He knew he shouldn’t bring this up, but he needed to know. “My friend, Harry Osborn, said that Spider-man attacked one of his dad’s employees… Is that true?”

Stacy crossed his arms and stared at Peter, making his skin crawl. Even though he hadn’t been at it for too long, he still felt awkward now when he was being glared at without a suit on. He felt naked. “We’re looking into it,” he answered.

Peter sighed. He knew he should drop it. “Do you think he did it?”

 Stacy eyed Peter intensely. “Don’t worry, son, we’ll get him.” Peter tried to smile. Stacy waited a moment for him to respond before shrugging and turning to the elevator.

Peter tried to drop it. Now wasn’t the time to be dealing with Spider-man matters. Now he had to deal with what he had done. He took a deep breath and opened the door. He was greeted by his aunt standing in the foyer, pacing. She hadn’t noticed that he had come in. He watched her for a moment, pacing with her face covered in tears. She ran her hands through her silver hair, and he hung back. Facing muggers and criminals he could do… facing _this_ wasn’t easy.

He coughed softly. “Aunt May…” She froze and then turned to him. He saw five different emotions pass through her face, ranging from anger to sadness to relief. Peter hung back until she came towards him. He remained frozen as she put her hands on his shoulders, holding him at arm’s length and studying his face. He felt the bruises on his cheeks throb and he hoped beyond reason that she didn’t see that he was hurt.

“Peter…” she breathed. She pulled him into a tight hug, and he bit back a gasp of pain. The last thing he wanted or needed was for her to know that he was in pain. That would only complicate the coming blowout. He leaned into her hug and closed his eyes. He wanted to tell her, but if he did, she would never stop worrying about him. He’d rather her worry about his mental health than worry about him walking out that door every morning.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hugging her tightly. The knot in his stomach tightened further when he realized that she was shaking. He hated himself.

They remained there for several minutes as she stroked his hair, comforting both of them. He wanted to stay there. He didn’t want to move on from this moment because he knew what would happen.

May broke away from him and he tried to hold onto her for a moment before he let her go. She held him back at arm’s length and he shifted under her gaze as her eyes passed over him. He avoided her eyes. “Peter…”

“I’m sorry, May,” he whispered. “I just…”

“No,” she snapped. He flinched. Here it comes… “Where were you, Peter? Where?”

“I’m sorry. I needed to clear my head, and I turned off my phone and lost track of time.” He waved to the door. “I didn’t mean to stay out this late.”

May looked at him and then she turned, running her hands through her hair. He followed her inside, keeping his head down. “You _can’t_ do this, Peter! You can’t keep doing it! You’re out at all hours of the night! You can’t keep a job! Your grades are slipping!” She let out a choked sob and a lump formed in his throat. He hated that he had caused this. He hated that he had put Spider-man above the people in his life. “I’ve called five police stations! I thought you were dead! I kept seeing you—“ her voice broke, “—lying on the ground in a pool of blood! Where were you?” She ended in an almost hysterical shout.

Peter bowed his head, ashamed. _The truth is, Aunt May, I_ was _lying face down in an alley, shot in the dark by some criminal because apparently I’ve managed to get on Wilson Fisk’s hit list. Oh, did I tell you I’m Spider-man and every time I leave this house, my life is on the line? Did I also mention that it’s my fault you’re a nervous wreck? I could have saved Uncle Ben, but I didn’t. I looked away… And now you know why I can never look away again._ That’s _why I get out there every day and night, even though it hurts you._

He didn’t say that, though. He had to lie, instead. “I was just wandering the streets.” It was a lame excuse, but what else could he say? “And I lost track of time.”

May didn’t believe him. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and then wiped the tears from her cheek. Every move hurt his heart. “What’s going on with you, Peter?” she asked. “I called Harry and he said he didn’t know where you were, either. You’re not talking to him as much. He said he hardly knows you anymore!”

He bit his tongue. Harry didn’t know him anymore? Sure, they hadn’t hung out a lot in the past few months, but they were still friends… weren’t they? He realized with a jolt that he couldn’t remember the last time they had hung out outside of school. His stomach twisted further.

“Ever since Ben died…”

“This isn’t about Uncle Ben,” he said quickly, hoping that would dispel her worries. It didn’t help.

“Then what is it about?” May shouted. Peter took a step back. “What is it, Peter? Just tell me! I _need_ to know because I want to help you! I can’t help you if you won’t tell me why you are doing this? I know it’s been hard without Ben, and the money, but this… this can’t happen anymore!”

Peter kicked the floor quietly. “I know,” he said quietly. “And it won’t… I promise.”

She shook her head. “Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep,” she said quietly. She sounded so defeated and disappointed in him. Those words stung worse than the yelling she had just done. She waved her hand, sending him off. “Peter, I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing…” he muttered.

She huffed and turned her back to him. He knew she wanted him to open up. This had come to a head and she needed him to tell her why; but he couldn’t. “You are grounded until further notice.” He nodded. That was fair. “Go to your room, Peter.”

“Aunt May…” He didn’t know what else he could say, but he didn’t want to go to bed with her angry at him. There was no getting out of this. Even if he came clean now, it wouldn’t dispel her anger. Whether or not she was aware, she was better off believing that he had went out of his way to hurt the people he cared about. It was better that she thought he was still grieving about Uncle Ben’s death and the behavioral problems were brought on by that grief.

“Go!”

Peter nodded slowly and walked to his room, falling onto his small, twin bed. He didn’t even bother to get out of the clothes that he had changed in to. He felt like he was about to vomit. His muscles screamed. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t settle down enough to sleep. His mind was still reeling about everything. May was so angry at him and he could do nothing. His and Harry’s relationship was on the rocks, apparently. The police wanted Spider-man for questioning and Fisk wanted Spider-man in the grave… and someone was trying to kill Oscorp employees. He closed his eyes. The walls in their house were paper thin, and because of that, he could hear his Aunt cry herself to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I really disliked in Hostile Takeover was how Maya never felt deaf. As someone fluent in ASL, I was happy to see a deaf character in a novel, only for it to play almost no role.


	3. I'm Tired of Caring

 

> Chapter Three: I'm Tired of Caring

Peter opened his eyes. At some point, he figured he must have fallen asleep, but he didn’t remember when and for how long. The alarm going off hadn’t been what had woken him up. It started going off a few minutes after he woke up. He sighed and sat up on the bed, moving slowly to avoid hurting his already sore muscles. He walked silently to the bathroom and undressed slowly. His shoulder and leg were caked in blood and sweat. Tossing and turning the night before had reopened the wound a little, leaving a fresh coat on top of the other one.

He stepped into the shower and let the warm water hit his back. He stayed in longer than he should have to get the blood off. When he stepped out, he moved in a deliberate way. No movement was out of place. He didn’t want to waste any energy. He got dressed in a slow, methodical way, putting his older suit under his clothes. He didn’t want to think about having to be Spider-man today, but he knew the one time he didn’t bring his suit his school would be under attack.

The small apartment seemed even smaller as he stepped out into the main room. His eyes traveled slowly over the living and dining room area. May was sitting at the small table in the nook, poking at the wet cereal. A piece of toast was waiting for him on a small plate. He moved like someone approaching an injured animal. “Good morning,” he said quietly, sitting down across the table. “I…”

“I called Harry. He’s going to pick you up.”

Peter sighed. He didn’t want that. The last thing he needed was to be coddled and taken to school by his best friend. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. Arguing would be pointless. May needed him to go along with this to the best of his ability.  He tugged at his collar. The older suit was itchy, but it was probably good that he put up the mask for a few days. The police were looking for him.

He ate and then stood, hurrying towards the door. “Peter.” He stopped by the door and smiled. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Of course.” He flashed a smile at her. No matter how much they fought, they would always be okay. “I love you, too.” She laughed softly and he left, feeling sick to the stomach about the whole thing. May was a saint and he didn’t deserve her.

When he made it outside, he sat down on the curb and buried his head in his hands. He didn’t want to think about all the crimes he could stop on the way to school that that he now couldn’t because he now had to ride in a limo. It was hard convincing himself that it wasn’t his job to stop those crimes. No one had assigned him this position. If he had to believe that it was his job, he would have to believe that someone was pulling the strings of fate and had given him this job through that spider bite.

Speaking of the limo, he looked up as the black car turned onto his street. He grabbed his backpack and stood. The car parked on the curb and the driver stepped out. Peter looked down at the ground and waited. He didn’t need to, but it made Harry feel better if he acted the right way. It made him feel like he wasn’t a snob. He nodded to the driver as he opened the door and then he got inside. Harry was in there, working on studying math. Peter sat as far away as he could, looking down at the ground as the car pulled out.

For a while, the only sound in the car was the low hum of the vehicle and the jostling of potholes that this type of car wasn’t built for. Peter stared out the window. Everything about this was uncomfortable. People watched the car drive past them and all he wanted to do was curl up and die.

“Pete?” The breaking of the silence was jarring. 

“Hm?” Peter asked without looking at him. Here it comes… again…

“What happened?”

He sighed. “It was… nothing…” he said.

“It wasn’t nothing. You don’t do things like this.”

He clenched his fists. He needed a better excuse than what he had offered the night before. He sighed. Mentioning money problems wouldn’t go well with Harry. He’d offer to help pay, of course. But that seemed to be the best way to get out of this. Peter sighed. “I was investigating Fisk,” he admitted, deciding that it was close enough to the truth. “And Spider-man. The Daily Bugle is running some sort of junior reporter and photographer contest for a paid internship.” That much was true, at least. “I thought I’d try help out with the rent and stuff… A freelance photographing job would be better than trying to keep up an after school schedule… and I didn’t want to tell Aunt May because she would think all of this was her fault.”

Harry shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Peter felt bad by bringing up money for the sole fact that it would shut Harry up. It was a miracle that he and Harry had managed to even be friends based solely on their class. He didn’t like using their money situations to make Harry uncomfortable, but he hoped that it would keep him from asking too many questions. This whole double life thing was something he still had to get used to. His plan, as usual, didn’t work.  “If you need money—"

“You told Aunt May that you and I don’t talk anymore,” Peter snapped, cutting off Harry’s sentence. He knew that would only end in an argument. Of course, now he was starting a different one. He hadn’t planned on calling Harry out on ratting him out with May, but he’d rather do this than fight about money. “How could you do that, Harry? It’s just going to worry her more!”

Harry looked at him, stunned. “I… I was worried about you, Pete,” he defended. “You haven’t been… yourself in a while.”

“You could have told her that you and I were doing fine,” he said. He didn’t mean to sound bitter, but it came out that way. He hadn’t realized how mad he was about that. “We are… aren’t we?”

Harry sighed. “I don’t know…” he admitted. “I want us to be okay, but—”

“But nothing,” Peter snapped. He hadn’t meant to come back so angrily. He had planned on this part of the conversation to be calm. They were judging him based on what they knew. He should realize that they didn’t know the kind of pressure he was under. That should be his concern, but it wasn’t. They didn’t know and he didn’t care, because _he_ knew what he was going through. It was frustrating that they didn’t. “What’s gotten in to you?”

“Me?” Harry shook his head, clenching his fists. “What about you? Pete, you’re disappearing all the time! You’re late for school! I’ve had to cover for you time and again at school and to your Aunt! And when you vanish for six hours and you are found with no idea where you are, like _hell_ I’m going to lie to Aunt May and say that nothing is wrong; because there _is_ , Peter!”

Peter turned away and looked out the window. “Nothing’s wrong,”

“Cut the crap,” Harry snapped. The two lapsed into silence for several minutes. Peter let it hang between them. “You can tell me anything, you know.”

He scoffed. If only. “I wish…” He swallowed his next words. He wished it were that simple, but it wasn’t. “I wish I could, Harry.” It was the closest he could get to admitting there was something wrong. He didn’t even like to think that Spider-man was wrong, but to them, it probably was. It was nice to have people who cared about him, and it tore him up to lie about it.

Luckily, at that moment, they pulled up to the school. Peter didn’t wait for Harry to say anything as he opened the door before the driver could even come to a complete stop. As he stepped out of the car, he caught a glimpse of the newspaper sticking out of the garbage can. On the front page was a blurred picture of Spider-man taken off of someone’s phone for sure. He grabbed the paper and clenched it in his hands as he read. _Spider-Man Wanted_ the headline read. _Joshua Henderson’s reports of being attacked and having his life threatened by an unnamed assailant and Spider-man have caused outcry in the public eye and the police force, with many calling for the vigilante to receive the justice he deserves. He is wanted for questioning. But the conversation has turned to a more pressing matter as people are questioning the validity and safety of these so called masked heroes and vigilante justice. Norman Osborn, who employs Henderson, has gone on record saying--_

A hand grabbed his shoulder and Peter spun around with an angry yelp. He shoved Harry away, crumbling the paper in his fists as he did. “So, your dad’s spreading rumors about him?” he asked, unable to keep the anger from boiling over. Harry looked at him, confused.

“Pete…”

“Forget it.” He ripped the front page of the paper in half and tossed it back into the trash can before storming into the building. He had already missed out on the chance to help people this morning on the way to school, and now he had to deal with whatever good graces he had been building with the police being dragged through the mud. He stopped at his locker and his senses shot up to a three. He rolled his eyes as he dodged an oncoming slap to the back of his head. “Not today, Flash,” he growled, moving out of the way.

The blonde boy smiled. “Aw, what’s the matter Parker? Not in the mood?”

Peter shook his head. “Not. Today.” He warned. Flash was either too stupid to heed the warning or he didn’t care, because he grabbed Peter’s shoulder tightly. Peter reacted faster than he should have. He grabbed Flash’s hand and spun, shoving him into the lockers behind them. The sound it made was deafening as the people around them paused their conversations to observe the brewing fight. “I told you not to do this today!” Flash stared at him for a moment, stunned. Peter had never been one to fight back; even after the bite. Standing up for himself would mean showing them that he _could_ fight back now.

Flash moved quickly. Maybe it was because he saw Peter fighting back and he needed to assert his dominance; or maybe he was looking for a fight just as much as Peter had been. He grabbed Peter’s shoulder with one hand and punched him hard in the gut. Peter doubled over out of reflex. His fists clenched. Something in him snapped. He was someone with extraordinary power. He had been shot _twice_ the night before and here he was, on his feet like nothing had happened. No one else that he knew could do that. He didn’t _have_ to take this!

He grabbed Flash’s hand from his shoulder and squeezed hard. The bones in the hand creaked under the pressure. Peter took a step back and then yanked Flash towards him just as he brought his fist to Flash’s stomach. He didn’t need to take this anymore. He had been trying to make everything stay the same; but nothing was the same. It would never be the same. Uncle Ben was dead. He was a masked vigilante. His best friend thought he was going off the deep end. His Aunt was making herself sick with worry. His alter ego was a prime suspect in a hit.

With all that in mind, the punch that he delivered ended up being harder than he had intended. Flash went down to his knees hard, and Peter released his hand and watched him drop. It felt like it was happening to someone else. Flash was doubled over on his knees, holding his stomach. His face contorted in pain. Peter cocked his head, not really sure what he had done. By that point, they had garnered the attention of most the kids in the hallway. Students surrounded them and the more that showed up, the more Flash tried to pretend that he wasn’t in pain. He tried to stand and Peter took a step back to give him space, but he stumbled forward and went back to his knees. “Flash…?” Had he _really_ hurt him? He couldn’t have hurt him that badly. He hadn’t meant to, at least. Flash began coughing.

Peter turned and pushed his way through the crowd of people, only to run smack into Gwen Stacy. He stammered as he backed away from her. This was the last thing he needed. “Peter? Are you okay?”

His mouth felt dry and he shook his head quickly, trying to make something that sounded like a coherent sound. “I didn’t mean it,” he managed to push out. He had just been tired of it all. He shook his head again. “I didn’t mean to hurt him!” Shoving past her, he hurried towards the exit. Footsteps behind him told him that he was being followed. Once out of the school, he grabbed his chest and tried to catch a breath as he leaned over the railing on the stairs. He wanted to jump and disappear into the city, but that would only make things worse.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump. His senses hadn’t warned him about that. He turned as Gwen came to stand beside him. “Hey…” he whispered.

“Hey.” She eyed him carefully. He hated that even she looked nervous around him. They hadn’t had too many interactions before now, but they had been in the same class for years and he had always had a bit of a crush on her. Spider-man had complicated things, though. Plus, he had always seen her getting together with Flash. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he lied. He hadn’t meant to hurt Flash that badly, and he hoped that Flash wasn’t really hurt. He knew now he was in a lot more trouble, but that wasn’t his main concern. He really needed Flash to be okay. “Is he…?”

“I didn’t stick around long enough,” she admitted. She studied him closely. Peter looked to the ground. What was happening? How could he do something like that? Sure, maybe Flash deserved it, but he had attacked with his superior strength and that didn’t make him any better than the bullies he fought. He closed his eyes tightly against the sunlight. “You don’t look well, Peter.”

“He’s not.”

Peter froze. Of course Harry would get involved. When did he ever _not_ get into his business? “I told you, I’m fine.”

Harry crossed his arms. “Fine isn’t how I would describe this.”

“What was I supposed to do?” he defended. “Continue to let him push me around?”

Harry shook his head and walked around Gwen to stand in front of Peter. “Since when do you _hit_ people?”

“Since I get tired of being Flash’s punching bag!”

Harry was exasperated. He ran his hands through his curly hair with a long hiss and then turned back towards the entrance. “I want to help you, Peter, but I can’t if you won’t tell me what the hell is going on!”

Peter sighed. Maybe they thought he was getting involved in gangs or drugs or something. It probably made as much sense as him getting spider powers and fighting crime. He had already hinted that something was going on, but he couldn’t tell Harry about it. He should have kept his mouth shut about that. Maybe Harry thought that he was getting into something because of the money. “I can’t tell you,” he admitted quietly. Gwen looked between the two. “I wish I could, Harry… I really do.”

Harry sighed, shaking his head. Peter knew his friend didn’t need this in his life. Between Oscorp and Mr. Osborn, Peter was the only normal, non-complicated thing in Harry’s life. Now he was complicating their simple friendship with this thing that he couldn’t even mention. “I wish you could too, Pete.”

 

Suspended.

Peter looked up that the ceiling of the front office while Aunt May talked to the principal in his office about him. He was glad he wasn’t in there, but he wanted to hear what they were saying. Was she trying to explain his behavior, or was she just apologizing profusely? Flash had spent the entirety of first period in the nurse’s office and then he was taken out of school. Peter needed to try and call him later to make sure he was okay. He had only really used his strength to beat up thugs that he didn’t really care how well they faired afterward.

He flinched when the door opened and May stepped out with her purse on her shoulder. “Come on,” she said to Peter. It was his first offense in fighting, but the tardies and the skipped classes had accumulated into him getting suspended. He stood slowly and followed his Aunt out of the school. At least he’d have time to investigate Fisk and the assassination attempt while May was at the hospital working.

They got into the car and it took several minutes before she finally spoke up. “Peter… What happened?”

“I hit a bully,” Peter defended. He hadn’t wanted to lash out, but he needed her to understand that Flash wasn’t the innocent one here. “He hit me first and I retaliated. I’m the only one getting in trouble because I hit harder.” May sighed. He knew that sound. It was the one she made when she was disappointed with him

“Peter… you can’t just punch your way out of things.”

“Flash is a bully!” he snapped. “He’s been using me as a punching bag for years and the one time… the _one_ time I fight back, suddenly I’m the bad guy!” His voice rose higher than he had intended. His suit was becoming itchier. He wanted to swing.  “This is ridiculous!”

“No, what’s ridiculous is that I had to be called from my job because my nephew beat someone up at school and might have sent him to the hospital! Peter, what’s going on with you? You said you were going to be better.”

“I’m trying to be!” Peter snapped. “He hit me first!” 

“That doesn’t mean you have to hit him back!” May retorted, raising her voice. Peter flinched back and turned to look out the window.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a minute.

May sighed. “I know you are. But Peter, whatever’s happening with you, you need to tell me, okay? This acting out can’t continue.”

Peter took a deep breath. “I want to get a job,” he said quietly. He needed an excuse to get out of the house. “The Daily Bugle is doing a contest for photography and I was wandering the streets last night hoping to get a picture of Spider-man. I didn’t want to tell you because I thought you would worry even more. When Flash lashed out, I was already on edge, and I lost control for a minute.”

May didn’t say anything for a while and he was beginning to think that this was worse than telling her that he was Spider-man.

“I know we need the money,” he offered.

She sighed deeply. “Peter… I don’t know what to say…”

“I want you to believe me,” he whispered. “I want you to understand that I didn’t mean to hurt Flash and I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ve just been trying to get pictures and I thought the money was more important than my education.”

“Nothing is more important that your education,” May said. She gripped the steering wheel tightly. “When’s the contest due?”

He searched his memory. He hadn’t meant to try and get pictures of himself for the _Bugle,_ but if it put her mind at ease, then he’d do just that. “Saturday.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay. Then you should get on that when you finish your homework.”

He turned to her sharply. “Really? Are you serious?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. May was actually going to let him get out there and take pictures? He wasn’t grounded anymore? Or maybe he was, but this was part of it.

“If it helps you, then I will allow it.”

The victory was bittersweet. She was only giving him slack on his leash because she thought he needed this for some mental health therapy. He decided to try his luck. He had to get out there and start trying to figure out what was happening between Fisk and whoever was trying to assassinate his and Mr. Osborn’s workers. “Can I… walk home?”

May took in a deep breath and slowed the car, pulling onto the curb. He stepped out before the car came to a complete stop. “Home by eight, Peter,” she warned.

“I promise.”

Her words echoed in his mind as she drove off, leaving him on the sidewalk. _Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep…_


	4. What the Blind Man Saw

 

 

 

> Chapter Four: What the Blind Man Saw

 

Maya shook her head as she walked through the halls. Being in normal clothes always felt a bit strange now, but when she wasn’t gallivanting around as Fisk’s personal assassin and hand, she had to look the part of his assistant. She nodded to the people as they passed, not bothering to look at their mouths to even see if they were speaking. The steady vibrations of the floor told her that nothing was happening in the building. Neither she nor Ghost had found hide or tail of their spider themed vigilante. Even causing havoc in certain areas hadn’t dragged him out of hiding. Maybe Ghost  _had_  killed their little friend. Perhaps Fisk had been too quick to judge their erratic assassin. Just because she hadn’t brought in Spider-man’s body, that didn’t automatically mean she hadn’t finished the job. Maya understood Fisk’s caution, though. People had the habit of coming back from assumed death.

She hadn’t been happy when Fisk brought in Ghost for this new deal. It felt like he believed that she couldn’t handle herself out there. She had gone toe to toe with Daredevil and lived to tell the tale. This young brat wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. Ghost also intimidated her. The way the assassin shifted and never really felt like she was there was unnerving. She also didn’t like that she had never seen Ghost’s face and everything she knew about what the girl said was translated from Fisk or a very basic understanding of American Sign Language. When she had voiced her opinion about the assassin, she learned that Ghost was Osborn’s employee, rented out to deal with their Spider problem.

She opened the door, making as much noise as she thought was enough to get Fisk’s attention. He lifted his head from his desk, proving that she had done a good enough job. “Good afternoon, Maya,” Fisk said with a smile. She returned it. Brutal as the man was, he could still win over a room full of people with that smile. She knew the kind of person who had raised her and she was, more or less, okay with it. He was gentle when he needed to be and ruthless when it was required. She had seen and accepted both sides of him.

She bowed her head slightly in greeting. “Mr. Fisk,” she said, pushing the words out of her mouth and moving her lips the way she had seen people do all her life. Sometimes she put her hands to her own throat to feel the vibrations to make sure she was actually speaking. She put down the folder she had been carrying on the desk and offered Fisk a pleasant grin. Fisk looked down at it, studying the things that she had brought him. The contract was moving forward between his industries and Oscorp. Everything would be moving smoothly if it weren’t for Spider-man and Hammerhead getting involved in everything. Sure, they were snatching up parts of the docks that, theoretically, belonged to Hammerhead’s gang, but he could do nothing about it without breaking the law; and no one wanted that.

Fisk always said that there can be no organized crime without law and order.

Suddenly Fisk flinched and whipped his head around. Maya looked in the direction Fisk was looking at and her eyes widened. There he was; their Spider problem knocking on the window. The audacity of it! Anger boiled within her and she couldn’t imagine how Fisk was taking it. Fisk looked over at Maya and then nodded to the window. Maya cocked her head before walking to the window and opening it. He was actually taking this rather well. Spider-man stepped into the room, but he at least had enough sense to stay near the window.

Fisk stood and Maya watched the masked man. He flinched away from the towering man walking towards him, but his muscles didn’t coil. Did he really not know who he was dealing with? His footsteps shook the floor, but he stopped without getting too close to Spider-man. Fisk was being respectable to their guest. Odd. Any other day, he’d be attacking the intruder by now.

“A pleasant surprise,” Fisk said. Maya moved to keep both of them in view, but even though she could see his mouth moving, the mask prevented her from reading Spider-man’s lips. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Spider-man took a step back, putting his back to the window. He moved his arms and by the way his jaw moved, he was explaining something quickly.

Fisk crossed his arms. “They failed to kill you, so I don’t see the problem.”

Spider-man waved his arm. Fisk nodded slowly. Spider-man pointed to himself and then the window. She followed where he was pointing and realized that he was gesturing to Oscorp. What did he want with Oscorp? Was he trying to tell them to leave it alone?

When she turned back, Fisk was smiling. “Then I believe I owe you an apology, Spider-man,” he said. Maya narrowed his eyes. Fisk didn’t apologize unless it benefited him. “But you and I seem to have a common enemy. But before we discuss anything, could you please remove your mask?”

Spider-man held up his hands and shook his head frantically. Apparently, he didn’t like that idea.

Fisk smiled. “Understandable. Then will you at least let me see your mouth? I don’t like talking to a mask.”

She looked back over at him and he seemed to be thinking it over. His jaw moved as he answered Fisk and then he reached up to remove his mask over his lips. Maya smiled slightly. Fisk had done it to allow her the chance to be able to see what their guest was saying and he had done it without giving away her deafness.

“Better?” Spider-man asked. She didn’t like his body language. He wasn’t cowering or acting humble in anyway. Fisk always talked about the tone that people used with him. She wondered how much he liked Spider-man’s tone. The boy probably didn’t know who he was speaking to. Fisk nodded. “All I want to know is who might be going after your men,” Spider-man said.

Fisk shook his head. “My guess would be Hammerhead,” he said. Maya didn’t move from where she was. She wasn’t sure what her boss was doing. Getting the Spider involved now would be a waste of time and effort.. They should be killing him. But his body language didn’t indicate that he wanted Spider-man dead.

“Who?”

He laughed. “You really are new to this,” he said with a grin. Maya knew it as a rather wicked smirk, but to the untrained eye, one might think he was trying to be humorous. “You have much to learn about this city. Either way, you and I have a common enemy. You want to protect this deal and I need someone to take down Hammerhead.” Spider-man nodded slowly. “I will get you all I can on it. What’s a good place to meet you?”         

He turned away from them and spoke. Fisk nodded. “The docks it is, then.” He waved the boy off. “I will meet you in the morning, Spider-man.” He smiled. “It will be a pleasure working with you.”

The boy nodded and hurried out the window, pulling his mask down as he went. Maya turned to Fisk and put her hands on her hips. “Are you sure about this?” she asked. She knew the saying that people needed to keep their friends close and their enemies closer, but she didn’t like this idea. Spider-man may be new to the whole hero thing, but no one knew anything about him. He was young, but well built. She trusted Fisk, but she didn’t trust their new business partner.

Fisk smiled and reached forward, stroking her gently across the face where the handprint was usually painted on. “The boy doesn’t know right from left. He’s young. If he can keep Hammerhead busy, we can move on with this deal with Oscorp without worrying about Spider-man  _or_  Hammerhead’s gang getting in our way.”

"But, sir..." 

He held up his hand, signaling that he had heard enough. She closed her mouth and pushed out air, hoping it didn't sound like an annoyed gesture. She had been told that she always had a habit of sighing too loudly when she was annoyed or frustrated with people. Fisk eyed her for a moment and she avoided his gaze. "If it bothers you so much, follow him." 

Maya bit her lip and turned from him before he could mouth anymore orders. She clenched her fists as she walked out. She didn't trust Spider-Man. He would turn on them the moment he suspected anything was amiss in their company. She headed towards the elevator with her head held high. Following him would at least allow her to get out of this ridiculous suit.

 

Harry stepped out of the elevator and into the penthouse that he called home. For how large it was, they really didn’t need that much space. It was only him and his father, Norman Osborn, living there now. Harry didn’t remember his mother much, but he remembered the penthouse being a lot livelier when she was alive. He sighed and tossed his backpack onto the couch. “Dad?” he called. "I'm home."  _Not that it matters..._

Norman stepped out of his bedroom, fixing his tie as he did so. “Good afternoon, Harry,” he said. Harry gave him a small wave and fell onto the couch after his bag, hugging a pillow like a child would hug a stuffed animal. After the day he had, he felt like a child. Norman looked down at him as he turned on the TV and then turned the volume to zero; something he didn’t do often anymore. It used to be a coping mechanism. He could pretend the people on the TV set were saying whatever he wanted them to say. Norman frowned. “Is something wrong, son?” he asked.

Harry sighed. He decided that Norman asking meant that maybe they could have five minutes of decent conversation and he should take advantage of that time. “It’s Pete,” he admitted.

For a moment, a confused look crossed Norman’s face, as if he didn’t recognize the name, and then he shook his head. “Ah, yes… You and he haven’t had a movie night in a while." Harry was surprised Norman had even noticed that much. " How is he?”

Harry shrugged. “I wouldn’t know,” he grumbled.

Norman shook his head, turning to Harry. So far, so good. His dad actually seemed mildly concerned about this. “What happened? Did you two get in a fight?”

“No…” he muttered. “At least… I don’t think we did. He’s just been real standoffish lately, and he hit Flash today…”

Norman frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Peter.”

Harry looked down at the pillow he was hugging to his chest. “I know. He’s just… It’s frustrating. I think there’s something really wrong with him, dad, but I don’t know how to help him. I can't help if he won't tell me what's.... wrong.” He trailed off. Norman said nothing and Harry looked up at him. He was staring forward, clenching one fist tightly. Harry followed his father’s gaze to the television as a news story about Spider-man played without audio. The photo they showed was a blurred mess of red and blue that could have been a car for all they knew. Harry shook his head and slouched. He didn’t know why he had expected anything different. “Whatever.”

Norman shook his head and looked down at him. “I’m sure this is merely a temporary issue. Give him some breathing room.”

Harry stood, shaking his head. _Great advice, dad. Ignore the problem until it goes away. That's how you deal with me, after all._  “I’m going down to the lab,” he snapped.

“Interested in the business?” Norman asked, completely missing, or ignoring, Harry's tone.

 _Interested in getting away from you,_ he thought, but he nodded without saying anything. He got back into the elevator and pressed the button for the sublevels. His father hadn’t always been the most attentive man to his problems, but ever since Spider-man had come into the picture, he had been so absent that Harry wondered if he even had a father most of the time. He sighed and leaned on the wall behind him. This was ridiculous. Peter was acting strange his and his father wasn’t acted any different at all and that meant that everything was terrible. He rested his head on the wall. He hated this.

The door dinged and he stepped into the underground lab. He walked down the grey halls, keeping his head down. Maybe he’d try to call Peter later. Surely that would start to mend whatever relationship they might have been able to salvage. He didn't even know which one of them had screwed up; or what was even wrong to begin with. All of this was just a disaster.

He stepped into a large room with several lab workers. If he remembered correctly, this was the lab space that the Life Foundation rented out. He still didn't know much about what was going on down here. Norman had told him he would one day tell Harry everything, but as usual, he hadn't gotten around to it yet. This left Harry to wander the halls indefinitely and confused about what was happening in his own company.

He walked to a large table with a tube resting on it. Inside the tube was… something. The black, inky thing moved sluggishly, folding in on itself. It seemed almost bored with the way it moved back and forth like someone pacing. Harry reached forward and tapped the thick, bullet proof glass. The thing inside flinched and suddenly became more agitated. Harry cocked his head. Was it alive…?

“Good afternoon, Harry.”

He turned around sheepishly, like a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He put his hands behind his back. “Mrs. Skirth,” he said with a smile.

She returned it. “I see you’ve met Project Venom.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” he asked.

She nodded and walked past him to the table. He turned to face the tube and watch her as she struck a syringe inside. The thing reacted like any creature would. It backed away from the sharp object invading its space. He watched with wide eyes. It had to be alive.

“What is it?”

“We’re not sure,” she admitted. “The thing came back on a shuttle during one of our launches. Your father was very interested in it, so he let us have to lab space for free.” She tapped the glass and the thing flinched back. “There’s still so much about it that we don’t know, but—” She flipped a switch and suddenly a loud note played throughout the room. The creature inside writhed as if in pain. “It has a strong dislike of certain sounds… And fire,” she added with a smile. “But what isn’t afraid of fire?”

Harry watched it move and sighed. If it was alive, was it scared being in there and so far from home? He shook his head. He was sounding like Pete, who always wanted to give anything and everything the benefit of the doubt.  He’d take one look at this thing and start pondering how its life was going.

He turned to Dr. Skirth. "What does it do?" He asked quietly.   
  
She shrugged. "I don't know. We haven't really even tried feeding it anything, but we think it's getting weaker."   
  
Harry frowned. Before he could say anything, someone else walked up. He smiled at the new young man stepping forward. "Hey, Brock," he said. The young man waved. Harry was used to seeing his older classmate in street clothes, but today, Eddie had on a lab coat with the Life Foundation logo on it. "Summer job?"   
  
"Internship," Eddie answered without looking up. "Not everyone has a rich daddy to help pay the bills."   
  
Harry scowled. Usually he would take comments like that in stride. He had known Eddie long enough to realize that he was joking for the most part. Pete never made jabs at his rich family, and the comparison was strong between them. It just brought up more thoughts about whatever was going on. "I guess the Bugle doesn't pay that well," he muttered. "But why the Life Foundation?"   
  
"They're pioneering incredible things," he answered with a shrug. He tapped the life form's home. I mean, look at this. This is a new life form and we're separated from it by only thick glass. How can you not think this is amazing?"   
  
"Its just goop," Harry grumbled. Between everyone fawning over this thing and his father obsessing over Spider-Man, he felt like a ghost in his own home.   
  
Brock and Skirth either didn't hear him or they chose to ignore him. He was used to that. Skirth turned to Eddie and they began discussing the discoveries. He sighed and moved away from project Venom, moving throughout the lab without really looking at anything. He didn’t come down here very often, which his father hated. Norman wanted Harry to get more invested in the company, but he just wanted to get through high school without some crazy event throwing everything to hell.

He stopped when he noticed his father walking down the hall. Harry tried to duck out of sight, but he was too slow. “Harry!” Norman called with a smile. “See anything you like down here?”

Harry forced a smile. He should have done his homework instead. “Sure, dad,” he said with a slight smile. He wanted to humor his father the best he could, but too much was going on for him to do that. He started for the elevator, but Norman grabbed his shoulder. “What’s up?”

“I want to show you something,” he said. Harry sighed and thought to tell his father that he wasn’t in the mood or that he had homework. Surely Norman wouldn’t keep him down here if he said he wanted to do school work. He swallowed his excuses, though. It wasn’t often that Norman made time to spend time with him. He figured the least he could do was humor his dad for the time being.

“Sure,” he said and allowed Norman to lead him through the lab. He wasn’t sure what was going on down here. There were so many experiments that Harry couldn’t keep track. He had often thought to bring Peter down here. He would have geeked out about everything while Harry would look on in confusion. He tried to humor the other people in his life if he could.

Norman stopped in a small room and Harry followed him inside. The room had a single scientist working on the computer. Harry tried to make sense of the images and numbers on the screen, but it might have well been written in an alien language for how much he understood. The table was lined with several vials covering the entire spectrum of green. “This will revolutionize medicine,” Norman said proudly. Harry looked at the vials and frowned. He wanted to at least pretend to be happy for his dad, but how could he when Norman had never talked about his own accomplishments with as much pride as he was indicating to some experimental drug. He knew he was supposed to be happy. Everything good about his life was due to Oscorp.

He smiled. Not everything. Peter had nothing to do with Oscorp and he wanted to keep it that way. Peter was the one normal thing in his life. He was the one person who Harry could count on not to use him for his money or connections.

Norman apparently mistook Harry’s smile as pride in the green liquid. “It truly is amazing, son,” he said with a smile, putting his hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry resisted the urge to push Norman away. He was still angry at his dad for… well, being Norman Osborn. He pushed down those thoughts. He knew how much pressure his dad was under.

 _I just wish one thing in my life wasn’t hard._ Sometimes he wished he and Peter switched places. Whatever Pete was going through, he had the privilege of not having and multibillion dollar company that would be his one day… and not having Norman Osborn as a father.

“That’s great, dad,” Harry said, moving away. “You’ll have to tell me all about it over dinner.” That was probably the one place he knew he was safe from the explanation. “But right now, I have homework to do! Don’t stay out too late!” He waved at Norman and hurried back to the elevator. He’d call Peter and maybe invite him for dinner or something. That would keep both their minds off whatever crazy thing they were dealing with. And maybe, just maybe, he could get Peter to tell him what the hell was going on.


	5. What the Deaf Girl Heard

> Chapter Five: What the Deaf Girl Heard

So far, Peter had learned that he knew nothing about the city he had sworn to protect. After roughing up a few street level thugs, he had found out very little about Hammerhead. One had even had the audacity to laugh at him for his ignorance about how the city ran. He strung that thug up and left him upside down with a note. Sure, it was petty, but he didn’t care. Sometimes he had to be petty. Besides, he had caught that guy roughing up a woman. He sighed as he sat on a fire escape in Midtown, resting his head on the railing with a soft groan. This was already becoming a mess, and he had only just begun. At least he didn't have to worry about school for a few days, but he'd have to get in touch with Harry for his homework.   
  
Harry...   
  
He sighed. He needed to talk to Harry anyway, even without the need for homework. They were on the rocks and that had to be mended quickly before it was too late. He didn't want to lose one of the only friends he had over something petty. He took his retrieved camera in his hands and flipped through the photos he had gotten. They weren't great, but they were better than the pictures the Bugle had already run. Those made the photos of the Loch Ness Monster and Bigfoot look credible in comparison. They weren't going to win him any contests, though. He’d have to work a little harder; but he was too fast for the camera. He stood. Now wasn’t the time to feel sorry for himself. He had to get out there and figure this out; _and_ get pictures so he could at least not be a liar to Aunt May.  
  
A loud shout rang out in the graying evening and Peter smiled despite himself. Some action would keep his mind off of Harry, the Bugle, Aunt May and Flash. He knew he shouldn’t be excited about these things, but it would be good to get his blood pumping again. After being laughed at by a thug who didn’t even have a gun, Peter decided it was time to take a tougher approach.   
  
He jumped onto the sidewalk and ran down the street where a man was holding up a young college student. Peter went to attack but froze instead. Maybe the best way to get information would be to let this play out long enough to get something. The thug shoved the student against the wall of the alley. "I... I'll get you the money!" the student begged. "I swear!"  
  
The thug laughed. "Based on your history, I would assume that no, you won't."  
  
"Please! I just need a few more days!" He sounded terrified. Usually Peter would have already stepped in. He hated doing nothing while someone was in danger. He wasn't one to just stand and watch, but he knew the thug would give away a lot more if he thought he wasn't being watched. Peter kept a finger on his web shooter just in case things got dicey.   
  
"Manfredi's already given you a few more days, Johnny-boy. Now he's ready to make an example out of you." Manfredi…? Peter bit his lip. How much did he not know about this city?  
  
The student shook his head, closing his eyes. "Please! Tell him he'll get his money, I swear!"   
  
The thug laughed again. Peter hated how much this man seemed to be enjoying this. It was sickening. "Don't worry about the money. He'll get that when he sends your head to your rich daddy's house." He shoved the gun barrel into the kid's chest, right over his heart. "This ain't about the money anymore, kid. It's about respect. The Maggia has given you more than enough chances to get them money on time, and you have spat on their generosity again and again. This time you'll pay with your life."   
  
Peter had seen enough. It was time to end this before someone got hurt. He had learned a few extra names, at least. Just as he went to press the web shooter, his phone rang. Peter gasped. He had forgotten to put it on silence. It was a rookie mistake. The thug spun around as Peter fumbled for the device, even though it was far too late to silence it. The damage had already been done.  
  
Everything happened faster than even he could process it. As he made the choice to screw it and ignore the phone, the student made the choice to take his life into his own hands while the thug was distracted by the costumed vigilante fumbling for his phone tucked away in a small pouch on his leg. The student kicked the man away and Peter lunged at the man. He missed. He had waited too long. He should have apprehended the gangster and then interrogated him; but he had wanted to see where it was going. He had been hoping he’d get something if he let this play out for a while. Somewhere in that madness, his camera fell to the ground and the flash went off several times over the next few seconds.  
  
Just when Peter landed where his target had been, the thug had in his priorities straight. The gun went off and Pete, out of instinct, ducked, but the bullet wasn't for him. The student dropped to his knees, holding his stomach as blood began spreading over his hoodie. That done, the thug spun around and aimed the weapon at Peter, but by that point, he had regained enough composure to kick the man to the wall and web him. "I'll deal with you later,” he hissed.  
  
He turned to the student and knelt beside him, his heart pounding. Memories of the night Ben died flashed through his mind and he tried to push them down. That was in the past. This was happening now, and this kid needed his undivided attention. He shook his head and looked down at the student. The blood was coming too fast. He put his hand on the wound and got his finger over the lacerations inside. Web fluid wasn't going to fix that. "H-hey... you're going to be okay," Peter assured the student, even though he had his doubts.   
  
"I... I needed the money..." the student whispered, as if trying to explain himself to someone who was judging.   
  
Peter wasn’t judging. Criminals always had a reason. He may not have been doing this very long, but he had seen enough to know that most people didn’t just wake up one morning and turn to a life of crime. "I get that," he said with a forced smile. He couldn't move his hand, or the kid would bleed out. Kid... this young man had at least two years on Peter. 

“You don’t know what you’re messing with, Spider-man!” the criminal shouted.

“I said I’d deal with you later!” Peter returned. He hated that the man was right. He didn’t know what he was messing with. He needed to call 911. They needed the police and an ambulance. “Can you reach your phone?” he asked the student, but he had already begun slipping into shock.

Before anyone could say much else, a black town car that looked like it had come straight out of a black and white gangster film pulled up to the entrance of the alley. The tinted back window of the car rolled down, but Peter couldn’t see inside. “Spider-man,” a voice inside greeted. Male. His accent belonged to a different era. “I knew one day our paths would meet. I was hoping it would be under different circumstances, though. This here is a bloody fine mess you've made.”

“Boss! I…!”

“Silence!” the man inside the car snapped. “You’ve done enough, Marlo.” He coughed. “Apologies, Mr. Spider, but these things do happen." There was a pause and despite the sounds of the city, Peter felt as if he could hear a pin drop in the silence of that pause. "You see, I’m not sure how we got on your radar, but if you know what’s good for you, you best get us _off.”_ Peter said nothing. He didn’t know what to say. Spider-man was a crime fighter. The other costumed freaks that came out of the woodwork were tough, but they were simple. This… whatever _this_ was… was very different. He had stumbled onto something he didn’t belong to. “You aren’t very good for business, but you have your uses.” A gloved hand appeared from the darkness in the car. In the hand was a gun. Peter flinched, but if he moved, the student would bleed out in seconds.

Marlo seemed to have a different idea of what was happening. “Boss! I didn’t tell the Spider nothin’!” he begged. “I didn’t know he was—” Whatever he was about to say was lost in the sound of the gun going off. Marlo gasped and his breathing became gargled as blood came from his mouth. Peter could do nothing as the breaths became weaker until they stopped all together.

“You cost me a good man today, Spider-man,” the boss said. His tone was just as steady and indifferent as if they were discussing something over dinner. Peter tensed to lunge. “I wouldn’t,” he said, tossing the clean gun into the alleyway. “Wouldn’t want that innocent young man bleeding to death, would you?” He sighed as sirens rang out in the distance. “Let’s go,” he said to his driver. “I’d rather not be here to handle the police. It was a pleasure, Spider-man. Let’s do it again sometime.”

Peter could do nothing except watch the car drive away. He bowed his head once the vehicle had disappeared, but when he looked down at the boy on the ground, he realized in horror that the bleeding had stopped, and the body was cooling down. Sometime during the altercation, the boy had passed away in silence... alone in an alley. A lump formed in Peter’s throat as he rocked back to sit on the pavement and in the blood. He needed to get out of there. He needed to not be here when the police showed up. He needed to track down that car. He needed to call Harry. He needed to get his life together. But he did nothing. He sat there even as the sun went down, and red and blue lights filled the alley.

Three officers stepped out of two cars. Peter recognized one of them. “Put your hands up!” Stacy called.

Peter complied, raising his arms and standing up slowly. This needed to be explained, so he didn't take off. “Captain Stacy…” he whispered. The seasoned captain cocked his head. Peter knew why. Usually when they encountered each other, Spider-man was a bag full of energy and had jokes to spare. This time, he had nothing but compliant.

Stacy looked at the alley and then at the blood on Spider-mans hands and legs. It was a blood bath. There were two corpses, two guns, and one masked vigilante already on the run from the last time he was found in an alleyway. Captain Stacy let out a long, whispering breath as he surveyed the scene. “What… have you done…?” His voice was shaking.

“I… I didn’t!” Peter gasped. Now he really needed to stay and assert his innocence. But his senses flared and he jumped onto the wall as one of the other officers fired.

“Hold your fire!” Stacy shouted, but the moment of peace and confusion between them was gone. Peter scrambled up the wall and shot a web at the camera to take it with him. Peter ran and didn’t stop running. It was nearing time for him to get home, but he didn’t think about that. He couldn’t. His mind was reeling. Two people had been killed in front of him and now… Now the cops thought he had done it. The gun the mobster had left didn’t have any fingerprints. That wouldn’t help his case.

He jumped off the nearest building and swung, yanking himself on his webs hard enough to bend poles and rip bricks from their spot. How could this have happened? He didn’t even know what world he had gotten in to! He had been investigating an assassination attempt! How had this gone downhill so quickly? When did he lose control over this situation?

He laughed out loud at that as he landed in a crouch on the edge of a building. When did he _have_ control of this situation? He sat down on the roof he had landed on. He grabbed his phone and dialed Harry. He answered on the first ring. “Pete?”

“Can I come over?” Peter asked without going through the pleasantries.

Are you—”

“Please?” He hadn't meant to sound desperate, but the shaking in his voice was hard to mask.

“Y-yeah… sure. I’ll call your Aunt. When will you be here?”

“Twenty minutes.”

Fifteen minutes later, Peter, dressed in civvies, stood in the lobby of the apartment building, pacing like a caged wild animal. Harry didn't make him wait long. Peter stopped his pacing to look at his friend. He seemed sad. They stood a few feet apart for a moment. “You called my Aunt?”

“Yeah. She’s happy that you called me. She's really worried about you." he said quietly. Peter looked away. “Pete… Are you okay?”

“No…” he squeaked. At first, Harry said nothing and Peter thought this was a mistake Harry didn't need this kind of thing in his life. He deserved a happier life. But then Harry crossed the space between them and put his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I screwed up,” he whispered before falling on Harry, hugging him tightly. The tears he had been holding back came flooding out. He’d would have to come up with an excuse eventually, but for that moment, he needed someone to share in his pain. “Oh God, I screwed up…!”

 

Fisk looked down at the photos Maya had given him. He flipped through them, spreading them on the desk. “ _Are you sure_?” he signed. He felt like this conversation needed to happen in sign to give her the respect she deserved.

She nodded her fist. _“Yes.”_

He observed the pictures. One was of Spider-man fighting one of Manfredi’s low ranking goons. The next few were of him kneeling in front of a body. She had said he was hard to keep up with after that. The next picture was him on the phone and the last was a teenager stepping out of the alleyway. He could study the young boy’s face. He wasn’t much older than Richard; still a high school student, it seemed. He smiled. That was surprising. They had all been assuming Spider-man was actually a man; not a boy. “Run facial recognition,” he said, unsure of the signs for the command.

“I have,” she answered. Her voice, despite having years of practice, still had that “deaf” quality. It wasn’t as noticeable as it could have been and could be written off as an average speech impediment, but it was there. He’d never tell her, of course. He pulled out a pen as she began signing, _“P-E-T-E-R P-A-R-K-E-R.”_

He wrote the name on the photo of the kid. He knew a good plenty of people who would pay out the ear for that name, but he merely put the photos in an envelope. “Will we go after him?” she asked.

He shook his head and brought a large hand to his head. He moved the hand away to make the sign for _y. “Why?”_

“We know who he is!” she insisted. “We should _end_ him!”

He smiled and was glad that she couldn’t see his face as he walked towards the safe he had in the office. It wasn’t the best place for the photos, but he’d move it once he left for the night. He had time to banish the grin while he locked the pictures away before he turned back to her. “He’s doing our business for us,” he said. “If Manfredi has that kid on his radar, he’s already dead. Let’s just hope he takes some of the Maggia down on his way out, hm?”

She huffed and turned her head away from him. He hated it when she did that. It was akin to a child holding their hands over their ears to act like they weren’t listening. He reached down and gently moved her face to look at him. “You are smarter than this,” he said, pointing to her chest. “We won’t kill Spider-man because he’s more useful to us alive. If he gets tangled into the Maggia, then he won’t have time for us, and with any luck, they’ll kill him for us.”

“We should still let him know we know who he is,” she insisted. She had never gotten the hang of using the right tone. She tried intonation and tried to let her tone match her mood, but usually she either came across as too exaggerated or monotone. It wasn’t her fault. You could teach a deaf girl many things, but that wasn’t one of them. Tone was something that was learned through sound observation, not sight.

“No,” he said, also signing it. “Why would we scare him? He thinks we are perfect, law abiding citizens. If we threaten him, we will look like we have something to hide. It’s best that we let him believe what he wants to believe.”

Maya turned away from him again, but this time she didn’t look angry. She just seemed mildly annoyed and that was probably because she knew he was right. He smiled at her even as he walked away from her. These things would take time. She was hotheaded and hotblooded. She didn’t believe that they had to follow every letter of the law in order to break the laws when it was beneficial. Yes, killing Spider-man now would be easy. Assuring his loyalty to them would also be easy; but he didn’t want to buy Spider-man’s services. He wanted _Peter_ to work with them on his own accord. Maya didn’t understand that people were far better and more loyal if they weren’t being threatened or forced into working for someone. The best employees were the ones working on their own free will.

He turned back to her and lifted his hand in the sign for _m_ and tapped his cheek where the handprint was on her costume. She smiled. “I know you are eager, but this must be dealt with gently.”

“I know,” she grumbled. He shot her a questioning look, which earned him a light laugh. “I understand.”

“This is a delicate situation,” he continued. She nodded, urging him on. “With Spider-man probably going to take the hit for both those kills, he’s going to need friends in high places. We can make him dependent on us if he wants to remain out of jail.” He sat down on his desk and sighed. “He’ll get desperate soon enough. The Maggia aren’t the people anyone wants to tango with.”

 _“You_ sent him there,” she said with a shrug. He laughed. He hadn’t meant for Spider-man to get tangled in his own web. He had thought the boy would last more than a few hours. He had planned on giving Spider-man false leads that would have kept him busy long enough to close the deal with Osborn. This wasn’t part of the plan.

But he was good as rolling with the punches if he needed to. “We can use this to our advantage. And if things start going pear shaped, we will go after his family then.”


	6. Wanted

Chapter Six: Wanted

Captain Stacy stared down at the unmarked gun in the evidence bag in his hand. He had just gotten off the phone with the kid’s parents. They were on the way to identify the body. It was one of the hardest parts of his job. He had kid and every time he had to call a parent to tell them that their child had died, he felt a pit in his stomach. It never got any easier and he figured it never would.

He turned the gun in his hands. They had scanned it. There were no fingerprints and no maker’s mark on the weapon. It was as clean as the day it had come from the factory. The lack of prints or any organic manner didn’t mean anything. Spider-man was known for having no skin showing on his body. No one had ever seen the young man’s skin. The other gun they had recovered at the crime scene had the prints of Marlo Ricci; the other corpse found in the alleyway. Right now, their guess was that Ricci had killed the college student in the alley and Spider-man had retaliated. “It doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered as he returned the weapon to the evidence locker.

“Sir?” one of his officers asked. He flinched, turning to her. She was young; a rookie. Her dark hair was short and her dark eyes were narrowed in thought. He hadn’t realized that she had followed him into the evidence room. “What doesn’t make sense?”

He sighed. “This whole thing. Spider-man may be a loose-cannon with no accountability, but he’s never been unnecessarily violent.” He locked the locker and pocketed the key. “And if he wanted to kill someone, why a gun? The kid’s got enough strength to do the deed without one.”

She shrugged. “Maybe he wants us to have this conversation. He doesn’t need a gun, so he used a gun.”

Stacy shook his head slowly. “That doesn’t make any sense, though. When he left, he took a camera, but not the evidence. He didn’t stay and fight. He didn’t try to defend himself.”

“Maybe the evidence we need is on that camera?” she suggested.

“You might be right, Watanabe,” he said quietly. She gave him a half smile. “But we can’t accuse him of anything without evidence. Him being there without any eyewitnesses doesn’t mean he had been part of the crime.”

“We could call him in for questioning,” she suggested.

He smiled at her optimism. “That would require him to cooperate. He doesn’t have a history of doing that. He won’t come in unless we can haul him in.”

“And we can’t get an arrest warrant or even a subpoena without a name.”

Stacy leaned against a wall. They couldn’t do much without the kid’s name. They didn’t even have another witness to the crime. The only witness to the crime was the Spider and he wasn’t one to help in police investigations. Stacy would love to have a word with Spider-man. A lot of the criminals he thought he was hauling in ended up getting released because the way he did things wasn’t by the book.

He pushed off the wall as another officer walked into the evidence room. “Captain,” he greeted. “Your daughter is here.”

He scowled. It was in the middle of the night. What was Gwen doing here?  He waved at Watanabe and then stepped outside where his daughter was waiting. He smiled despite the fact that he was worried about the fact that she was here. “What are you doing here?” he asked her, walking towards her and bringing her into an embrace. “Is something wrong?”

“You didn’t come home…” she whispered. He looked up at the clock as he hugged her tighter. Maybe it was the morning. He had lost track of time. It was 5 AM.

He sighed. “I’m sorry, honey,” she said, holding her at arm’s length. “There was a murder last night that I had to handle.” He liked that he could talk to her about work without scaring her too much. “Nothing you have to worry about.” He patted her head and she smiled back at him.

“Do you know who it was?” Gwen asked.

He shook his head. “No… but we might have a lead… if he’ll cooperate.”

Gwen frowned. “Spider-man?” she asked.

Stacy rubbed the bridge of his nose. Gwen was sometimes too smart for her own good. “Yes,” he said. There was no point in hiding it. He turned away from her with a sigh. “And we need him to get back here, but you know him; he doesn’t listen to us.”

“Have you asked him?” Gwen asked.

Stacy blinked. “Excuse me…?”

She shrugged and twirled her hair around her pointer finger absently. “Maybe just call him in. If he’s innocent, then he’ll want a chance to get his side of the story.”

He blinked and looked at her with a smile. Watanabe had said the same thing. Maybe they were both on to something. Stacy didn’t believe that Spider-man was a bad person. In fact, the kid seemed to think he was helping the city. If they could reign him in, maybe he’d come to his full potential. “You are a genius,” he said with Gwen, kissing her forehead. He turned away. “Watanabe!” he called. “We’re going with your idea. Get the media on the phone! Spider-man is now wanted for questioning.”

 

When Peter woke up, the sun was pouring in from the wall of windows that lined the penthouse. He didn’t move for a while. He was sore and stiff, and his face was crusted in dry tears. Some pillows from the sofa were strewn across the floor and the blanket that he had been given had been kicked off and bundled to the end by the armrest. He shut his eyes against the harsh morning light. He didn’t remember falling asleep and didn’t remember making the choice to even stay at Harry’s house the night before.

He reached for his phone and flinched when he noticed that his hands still had specks of blood stains on them. He didn’t remember explaining anything to Harry about where the stains had come from. He knew that beneath his civvies, he still had his suit on with the blood still on it. He grabbed his phone, unplugging it, and dialed May. He tried to come up with an excuse for why he hadn’t come home. He hoped Harry hadn’t made it sound as bad as it had been last night. Maybe he had lied to her and told her it was a sleepover. “Hey,” he said once she answered, not giving her a chance to speak first. “I’m sorry… for not coming home last night.”

She sighed deeply. His heart broke for her. “It’s okay,” she whispered _._  There was a moment of silence between them. He hated this. He missed the days when they could talk about anything… Before Ben died… Before Spider-man. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he lied. He needed to figure this out. Spider-man could disappear. All he had to do was not put on the mask again. It wasn’t like Spider-man lived out on the street. No one knew who he was, and no one could track him down without the mask. All he had to do was not be Spider-man. “I’ll be home later, okay?”

May released a long breath and he could tell that she didn’t like that. She wanted him home. Making her worry was making him sick. “Of course. Tell Harry and Mr. Osborn thank you for me. I’m glad they’re looking out for you.” He could hear the smile in her voice. He wished he could tell her that his visit to Harry hadn’t been just a social call, but he couldn’t do that to her. He hadn’t gone home because if May had seen how hysterical he had been the night before, she would have called out from work and she wouldn’t have let him out of her sight ever again. She was so scared of losing him that she would have freaked out had she seen how much of a wreck he had been.

“I’ll do that,” he said. The rest of their conversation was petty stuff about the weather or how work was going until she was called away from the nurse’s station and she reluctantly hung up. Peter sat up on the couch and pulled his knees to his chest as he stared at his phone. Spider-man was supposed to meet Fisk this morning. Or at least he was supposed to meet someone affiliated with the man. The man in the car hadn’t said he’d be hunting Spider-man down, but Peter didn’t want to cross the man’s path any time soon.

His stomach lurched as he remembered the student who had died yesterday; a death Captain Stacy probably saw as his fault.  _It_ was  _my fault…_ he thought bitterly. That kid had died under his watch. He had waited too long. Both those men would still be alive had he gotten involved sooner.

Peter flinched when movement caught his eye. Harry was walking towards him with a cup of hot tea in his hand. Peter took it gently, as if it were going to break the moment he touched it. He offered Harry a strained smile and Harry returned it. “So…” he started quietly, as if approaching a caged animal. Peter bowed his head and stared into the cup. He knew where this was going. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” he muttered. That was a lie. He wanted to talk it. The question Harry should have asked was  _can you talk about it?_ Peter kept his attention on the tea. He didn’t want to see Harry’s face. Harry had put milk in the tea, and he watched the white liquid swirl and mingle with the brown tea, making it murky. Milk was denser than tea, so it still curled in the semi-translucent drink. “Why aren’t you in school?”

“I asked dad if I could skip the first two periods. I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

Peter smiled despite everything. Sometimes he didn’t realize how lucky he was to have such a support system; even if they didn’t know what they were supporting him for. Both boys turned when Osborn walked into the living room. “Good morning, Peter.”

He stood and nodded to Harry’s father. “Thank you. Aunt May appreciates you letting me stay here… And so do I,” he added quickly.

Osborn turned on the TV, but the volume was turned off. “It’s not problem at all, Peter,” he said with a smile. “You know you are always welcomed here.” He turned to Harry. “But I do expect you to get to school by third period when your exam is.” He straightened out his suit and turned his gaze to the television before turning it up. Peter followed his gaze. The morning news was on, running a story about Spider-man. Peter watched in horror as he realized that his alter ego was now wanted for questioning. His stomach lurched, but he couldn’t even be upset about it.

Norman huffed softly and walked to the elevator without saying anything. Peter turned off the television. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Harry asked. Peter opened his mouth to say nothing, but Harry help up his hand. “And don’t tell me nothing,” he snapped. “Peter, you came to me last night in hysterics and your hands were stained with blood. What the hell happened last night?”

Peter reached for his camera. “I… I saw Spider-man last night,” he said quietly.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

He shook his head quickly. “N-no! He didn’t hurt anyone! I  _saw_  it!” He pointed to the TV. “He was trying to save them!”

“Do you have any proof of that?”

Peter looked down at his camera. The lens was cracked, but he remembered the sound of the shutter closing. He turned on the device and flipped through a few bad pictures before he landed on one where he was running towards the downed student. There was no gun in his hand and the thug had already been thrown back. “There!” he gasped, showing Harry the photo. “Spider-man wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. He was trying to help.”

Harry took the camera and studied it. “I don’t know… this photo could mean anything, Pete.”

“But I was there,” Peter grumbled.

“Just because you were there, that doesn’t mean everyone else knows the context… But if you want to send it in… It is a much better picture than anything the news has ever run on the guy.” Harry stood and grabbed a laptop, handing it to Peter. “Did you get to talk to him at all?” he asked as Peter worked on exporting the photo.

“Not really.”

“Any idea what he’s like?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know… he seemed pretty scared about the whole situation.” He found the  _Bugle’s_  website and attached to photo to an email before sending it off with a brief explanation as to what had happened. “I think he might just be a kid in over his head.”

Harry laughed gently. “He’s not the only one.” He stood and stretched. “I hate to leave you, but dad wants me at school. Unless you want me to stick around.”

Peter shook his head. He had things to do as Spider-man. “No. You wouldn’t want to make your dad angry by not showing up. I’ll be okay.” Harry looked down at him and Peter was reminded of all the times he had given his friend similar looks. Up until a year ago, Peter had been living the charmed and normal life while Harry was the one who found refuge in his home from his crazy family; or had called Peter in the middle of the night in near hysterics from a mental breakdown or just his dad causing a panic attack. “I promise.”

Harry’s expression didn’t change, but he grabbed his stuff anyway and headed for the elevator. Peter ran after him and got inside as well. Neither spoke the entire ride down and Harry said his goodbyes, leaving Peter alone.

Once he said goodbye to the doorman, Peter left the building and got on the subway. There was no point in suiting up to rush through the city. With the police looking for him and the man in the car out for blood, he was far safer as Peter Parker. The ride was eventless and Peter kept his head down the best he could. The last thing he needed was a truancy officer getting called. He couldn’t go to school, but they would have to confirm that.

The subway stopped and Peter hurried out before finding a secluded spot to dump his clothes and web them up for later use. He looked down at his suit and sighed. He had to get back before May did and clean it. The fact that he hadn’t showered since the day before made him feel disgusted, but he tried to ignore it as he put on his mask.

He was late and that fact yelled at him as he walked onto the docks. His senses buzzed at the back of his head and he resisted the urge to scratch it. He wasn’t in any danger and they were just trying to inform him that he wasn’t alone.

A person dressed in a white hoodie with a white mask stepped out of one shipping container;  _through_  the container. Peter took a step back.

“You are late,” the masked figure said. Its voice was mechanical and soulless with a slight echo to it. At first, Peter believed that his eyes simply weren’t adjusting to the harsh light, but the more he stared, the more he realized that the person in front of him wasn’t solid. The body seemed to be flickering in and out of existence and in a constantly shifting state. It wasn’t acting like liquid… it was acting like an old VHS that had been played one too many times

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve had a rough few hours.”

“I don’t care.”

Peter stood motionless for a moment before offering his hand. “Name’s Spider-man.”

His hand wasn’t taken. “Ghost.”

He pulled his hand back slowly, coughing softly. “Anyway… you have information for me?”

Ghost nodded and went back into the shipping container, returning with a briefcase. “Mr. Fisk requests that you do not bother Manfredi again if you can avoid it.”

Peter took the case. “Is that who I bothered?” Ghost nodded. “I will try to stay out of her way.” He got on his knees and opened the case. When he looked up, Ghost was gone. “Right…” he muttered, shaking his head. Dealing with these people was beginning to seem like a bad idea. “Oh, what gave you that idea, Peter?” he scolded as he dug through the papers he had been given. “Could it be that you knew this was a mistake before you showed up on Fisk’s doorstep?” He sat down on his legs with a sigh. “You’re an idiot…” he muttered.

He stood with the brief case and hurried away from the docks. He decided that maybe he should be secretly looking into Fisk. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the man; it was that he just wanted to know who he was working with and how he would do this.

After swinging for a while, he decided it was time to go home. With that in mind, he chanced his flight pattern and made it to his home in record time. He needed a shower and he needed a nap. Despite nearly passing out at Harry’s house, he still felt exhausted. After showering, he put both his suits in the tub to soak and clean, and then he fell onto the couch, turning on the TV. His stomach growled, but he ignored it to the best of his ability. He closed his eyes and before he knew it, he drifted off.


	7. You'll be Left in the Dust

 

 

> Chapter Seven: You'll be Left in the Dust

Gwen was sitting at her father’s desk in the police station, swiveling back and forth slightly while she waited for her dad to come inside. Outside the office, she could see him talking to a man as he handed him a plain manila folder. She looked down at the desk and the blurry pictures of Spider-man that her father had been looking at. They had no leads on him. No one knew who he was or even who would know how to get in contact with him.

She flinched when the door opened and George stepped in. “Good morning,” he said with a smile. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.” She pointed to the folder. “What’s that?”

He grimaced. She knew that he didn’t want her to get involved in any of this. He’d rather her be safe and away from his job. But she couldn’t just sit back and watch. Every day she watched her father strap on his guns and belt and she watched him leave without knowing if that last glimpse of him through the door would be the last time she saw him alive. Now that she was older, those fears were stronger; but she could also do something about them now.

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Just someone from the Daily Bugle.” He opened the file and handed it to Gwen. She opened it. The only thing in the file was a singular picture. It had been taken through a camera that had a broken lens and it showed the best and clearest photo of Spider-man she had seen. On the bottom of the photo was a single name.

Peter Parker.

“Peter?”

“You know him?” George asked.

“He’s in my class. Do you know him?”

He nodded slowly. “Remember the shooting last year? That was his uncle. And a couple days ago, that missing person was him.”

Gwen looked down at the photo. Peter had gotten himself in trouble a lot, it seemed. She studied the photo carefully. “What are you going to do?”

“Peter saw the crime,” he said with a shrug, taking the folder from her. “We need to call him in.”

“Can I be here when he comes?”

“You need to be at school.”

“I’m exempt from my exams today,” Gwen said, crossing her arms. If Peter was coming, she wanted to be there just in case he got overwhelmed. Luckily, Flash’s parents hadn’t pressed charges, but she wasn’t sure Peter would be able to keep his cool under this kind of pressure.

George sighed. “Alright.” He raised his voice. “Watanabe! I need you to find me one Peter Parker!”

 

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the grey morning light seeping through the blinds of his bedroom. At first, Peter did nothing. Then it dawned on him that he had slept right through the afternoon  _and_  night. He bolted upright to find himself in his bed. Aunt May must have found him on the couch and moved him to his bed. Dread filled him. He had meant to sleep only for a few hours, but if he had slept the entire night, there was a chance that May had walked into his bathroom to see the spider suits soaking in the tub.

He threw off his blanket and hurried into the hallway. “Oh, you’re up,” May said, smiling at him from the kitchen.

“Morning,” he said quickly and walked towards the bathroom with haste.

“You don’t have to go to school today, you know,” she called. She was trying to make conversation, but he had bigger issues to deal with.

“I know.” He hurried into the bathroom to find everything as it had been. His eyes darted around the bathroom, but the curtain for the tub was drawn without being disturbed and everything looked to be in place. One of the saving graces about doing this job while living at home was that May was perfectly fine giving him his space when he needed it. He moved the curtains to find a tub full of bloody water.

Memories of the encounter with the student flooded back to him in a wave. Everything was still so clear, even with over 24 hours separating him from the murder. He hadn’t even known the student’s name. He reached his hand into the soiled water and fiddled with the stopper until he started draining the tub. If the police ever showed up, he’d be found with incriminating evidence in his room, but there was nothing to link him to the crime.

 _Other than the picture you sent to the_ Daily Bugle, a voice reminded him. He froze just short of turning on the shower to mask the draining water. He  _was_  linked to the crime. Not Spider-man, but Peter Parker. He turned on the shower and jumped in, throwing off his night shirt. In a mad rush, he washed the suits until the water coming off them ran clean; and then he scrubbed the tub. He had watched crime shows growing up. Blood didn’t just come off.

The water was cold by that point. He didn’t even know how long he had been in the shower, scrubbing away as if his life depended on it.  _Calm down,_ he thought.  _They’re not going to sweep this place for prints! They would just ask you to verify what happened. You’re not in trouble unless you give them a reason to be suspicious._

A knock on the door broke him out of his mad cleaning. “Peter? What’s going on in there? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Aunt May!” he called back. He went to get off his knees, but the soap coating he had put on the tub had other plans. Just as he stood, he foot caught on the soap and he went down. In an attempt to stop his fall, he grabbed for anything he could get his hands around. Unfortunately, the only thing within arms’ reach was the shower curtain. His head slammed onto the wall behind him as the shower curtain rod bounced off his chest. Water hit the curtain, turning the relatively quiet bathroom into a thunderstorm of noise and rain.

“Peter!” May called, knocking harder. He fumbled for the faucet to turn off the shower with one hand while he groped for his webshooters with the other. Just when he thought May would break down the door herself, he fired a web at the door to unlock is as he turned off the shower. The door swung opened and he had just enough time to move his night shirt over the two suits on the floor before May stepped in.

He smiled from where he lay in the tub, half covered by the fallen shower curtain. “Morning,” he said sheepishly with a small wave.

May could only stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded. “What happened?” she asked at length.

“I slipped.” That, at least, wasn’t a lie.

She crossed her arms. “You’ve been in there for almost an hour.”

“Sorry… but I’m not dressed…”

She smiled at him and turned, leaving him alone in his own shame. Luckily, he didn’t break anything, but a fall in the tub wasn’t usually a good thing. He grabbed a towel and dried off before shoving his suits in the towel and throwing back on his night shirt. As he stepped out, he noticed May watching the television with wide eyes.

“May?” he asked, coming towards her with his wet bundle. He would have to go to the community driers in the apartment building to dry his suits. That way, he could be out the door before noon. “Something happen?”

He stepped into the sitting area of their apartment and looked to the television. They were, of course, running a story on Spider-man. That was nothing new. But what got his heart racing was the fact that they were featuring  _his_  photograph. The name of the photographer wasn’t listed under the photo, thank God, but he had submitted it to the  _Bugle_ under his own name.

“The picture places infamous masked vigilante, Spider-man, at the scene of a double homicide,” one anchor said. She turned to her co-host. “The picture doesn’t say much that the police didn’t already know.”

“The biggest revelation is that there was another witness to the events of that night,” the co-host agreed.

She nodded. “The police haven’t released the name of the mysterious photographer, but whoever it is, the testimony they will have could finally put this masked menace behind bars for good.”

Peter gripped his suits tightly, hugging the towel bundle to his chest. “Aunt May…”

“That’s your photo… isn’t it?” she asked.

Peter looked to the ground. He could lie about it, but he knew that would only lead to trouble. She knew that he had gone looking for photo opts and that he hadn’t come home the night to homicides took place. “Yes.” The police would question him about it. He had to opportunity to drive the narrative; but would they believe him? Harry had said the picture didn’t prove anything.

May gasped softly. It was such a sad noise that it made his stomach drop further. “Peter…”

“He didn’t do it!” he defended quickly. “I was… I was  _there!_ He was trying to help!” May shook her head. “You don’t believe what they’re saying, do you?”

She didn’t answer him and his stomach churned. She didn’t know the significance of rejecting Spider-man, but he felt it like led in his heart. He had started this mess to keep people from suffering as he had suffered; and all he was doing was hurting himself and everyone around him. “I’m going to go dry these. I had to dry the floor in the bathroom, and it’s soaked.”

She didn’t answer again and he started for the door. “Peter.”

He stopped.

“I don’t know what to think about any of this, but I don’t want you out there taking pictures of him.”

He sighed. “I understand. But… I should probably turn myself in as the photographer. I witnessed the crime.”

She stared at him. To her, the last time he had been near and around a gunshot victim, it was when Ben got shot. He couldn’t tell her that he was already losing his gun shyness because criminals shot at and around him constantly. She would have a heart attack if she knew what he was doing.

“I’d rather they not come here,” he explained. She, again, said nothing. He left without her saying anything. He felt bad about making her worry, but he had to. This was his mess that he had started.

Once the suits were dry, he slipped the newer one on and then put the other in his backpack. He climbed the wall, dropped off the suit, and then jumped into the city towards the police station. As he swung through the city, he rehearsed what he was going to say. Over the past year, he had gotten pretty good at lying; but he wasn’t sure that was something he should be proud of. Becoming a pathological liar had been tough, but now he lied as quickly as anyone else would speak the truth.

When the police station came into view, he landed in a nearby alleyway to throw on his clothes and remove his mask and gloves. Once that deed had been done, he ran out of the alley just as George Stacy and Gwen stepped out of the station. Peter jogged toward the duo. “Mr. Stacy!” he called.

Both father and daughter froze when they saw him. “Peter?” he asked.

Gwen smiled. “Hey! What are you doing here?”

“I… figured you would want to see me because of that picture I took,” Peter explained. He tried to seem sheepish and not nervous. “I’ll be happy to tell you what I saw.”

Stacy nodded. “Good. We were just on our way to ask you some questions.”

Peter offered him a smile, but on the inside, he was freaking out a little. He hated that he was about to kind of lie to the police. Everything about the encounter would be true; except for the fact that there weren’t in fact two people there. It was just him.

He followed Stacy to an interrogation room and sat down. Gwen came in behind them and he wished that this was more private. He looked down at his hands. Stacy seemed content with letting him calm down before he started talking, but Peter could see that the police captain was impatient. He had rehearsed what he was going to say, but it sounded stiff in his head. Was he supposed to be wracked by what he had seen? Maybe Stacy expected him to be so shaken that he couldn’t speak of it.

“Why don’t you start by telling me what you were doing out there?” he offered.

Peter wrung his hands like he had seen people do in movies when they were nervous talking to the police. “I was trying to get pictures of Spider-man… for the contest,” he said. That wasn’t a lie.

“Well, you accomplished that. What did you see?”

“Spider-man was trying to help the college student. The mobster attacked the other man and then shot him. Spider-man was trying to save him.”

Stacy listened intently to Peter. He felt as if the Captain didn’t fully believe him. “Peter, I watched Spider-man retrieve the camera. Where were you when that happened? How did you get the camera back?”

Peter blinked like a deer in the headlights. He had forgotten that detail. How _had_ Peter Parker gotten his camera back from Spider-man? He moved one hand under the table, clenching and unclenching his fists. At what point could he ask for his aunt? When were officers not allowed to talk to a minor?

 _Calm down,_ he thought. If he started asking for his aunt to be there, Captain Stacy would get suspicious. It was more suspicious if he didn’t answer the questions.

He shrugged. Spider-man was an enigma. The police didn’t know enough about him to figure out that he was lying. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I got scared when I saw the police sirens. I thought I might get in trouble, so I fled the scene. The next day, I noticed that my camera had been left in our mailbox in the apartment complex.” He shrugged again, trying to act like it wasn’t that big of a deal. “I guess he returned it.”

Stacy nodded slowly, studying Peter. Suddenly the suit under his clothes felt hot and heavy. Luckily, the air was still cold enough to wear at least two layers, but he tried not to squirm as it felt like Captain Stacy could see right through his jacket and shirt to the red and blue suit beneath. His eyes flashed to Gwen, who was standing there studying him kindly.

“He returned your camera? And he didn’t destroy the memory card?”

“Guess he didn’t think about it,” Peter said before licking his lips.

Stacy nodded.”Mmmhmm…” He turned his head. “Where were you in the alley, Peter?”

“Fire escape,” he said quickly. “That’s why the lens is broken.”

“I see.” He didn’t believe him. Peter could see it in his face. There was some sort of inconsistency in his story that made it hard to believe, but he couldn’t figure out what. So far, the only lie he had told was that there had been another party involved at all. He bit his tongue absently. “Gwen, can I see you outside for a moment?”

She nodded and followed her father out. Peter contemplated running or at least getting Aunt May down there; but that would look worse than just answering the questions. He had a name that he could point to. He knew who had done it. He pocketed the name. Sending the police after a mobster probably wasn’t the best idea.

 

Gwen stepped outside with her father and leaned on the door. “You’re being too hard on him,” she berated.

“He knows more than he’s saying,” George said. She smiled at him. The he got frazzled was kind of endearing at times. The entire police force had been turned upside down ever since Spider-man came crawling out of the woodwork. It seemed like his job had just gotten more and more stressful the more Spider-man tried to help. Now, for some reason, Peter Parker was involved.

“What do you think he knows?”

George looked through the two-way mirror. She followed his gaze. Peter did look to be fidgeting, but who wouldn’t be? He was being questioned about witnessing a murder. “I think he knows Spider-man,” he said.

She turned to him sharply. “What?”

“I think he’s covering for Spider-man. Why else would the webhead have taken the camera when he fled?”

She shrugged. “Incriminating evidence?”

“That he returned to the owner without wiping it? If he was so desperate to get the evidence away from us, why let the photographer release any of the photos to the press?”

Gwen put her hand under her chin and looked at Peter through the glass, studying him. He had been going through a lot lately. Her father didn’t know that Peter had been skipping school, starting fights, sleeping in class and generally becoming aloof. She had seen a fairly steady friendship from Harry and Peter fall to the wayside in the past year. _About when Spider-man started showing up…_

“Let me talk to him… alone,” she said to her father. He looked at her with a questioning glance. “I have an idea.” He shrugged and motioned for her to go in. She did. The room was cold. She sat down on the other side of the table. “Peter. What’s going on?”

“I saw someone murdered,” he said. She tried not to show a reaction. Not long ago, he hadn’t cared about that. He had been pretty okay with talking about the murder. He avoided her gaze.

“You saw Spider-man, didn’t you? Up close?” He nodded. “What’s he like?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Scared, maybe? When the kid got shot, he got real nervous and flustered.”

“He didn’t do it?” Peter shook his head. “What did he do after the shooting?”

“He tried to stop the bleeding.” Peter swallowed like he was holding back a lump in his throat. She didn’t comment and pretended not to notice. “The mugger shot the student.”

“And who shot the mugger?”

Peter’s eyes darted. She knew that sign. She had seen her father interrogate enough people to know when they were either lying, or hiding something. He knew more than he was telling.

“Where’d the gun come from, Pete?” He mumbled something under his breath. “Peter, you need to tell me or they are going to go after Spider-man. You know him, don’t you?”

He looked up sharply. “I don’t!”

“Then how’d you get your camera back?”

“I told you how!”

“Then he knows you, and he might be mad that you released that picture.” He stood. “Peter…”

“Manfredi!” Peter snapped as if his life depended on it. “The gun came from a man named Manfredi! He killed the thug for getting Spider-man involved and left the gun in the alley for the police to find!” His eyes darted around the room. “That’s all I know!”

Gwen looked up at him and frowned. She had gotten the confession they needed… But, for some reason, she didn’t feel good about it.


	8. That You Only Meant Well?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually going to give a solid content warning for this chapter. I don't usually do that, but... Here's your warning

> Chapter Eight: That You Only Meant Well?

Captain Stacy watched Gwen walk out of the room, leaving Peter to pace the floor nervously. “Manfredi…” he breathed, tasting the name. It was one that he was familiar with; like he was familiar with the name “Fisk.” If Peter Parker was a witness to the murder of these two men, and he could put Manfredi at the scene, then they needed to make sure this kid was willing to testify. “Thank you,” he said to Gwen.

Before she could say anything, Peter walked out of the room and started for the door. “I’m going home,” he announced without stopping. Stacy didn’t move to stop him, and Gwen waited until he was well out of earshot before she spoke up.

“He’s scared,” she observed.

Stacy nodded. Yes, it would make sense for Peter to be scared. Anyone witnessing a murder would be shaken up; and after Ben’s death, Stacy couldn’t imagine how gun-shy Peter was. It was a wonder that he even went out of his way to investigate crime and get photos of a masked vigilante. “You did well in there,” he said absently.

“I don’t feel great about it,” she muttered, pulling his attention back from where it had wandered.

“Why not?” he asked, distracted. One of his officers was watching Peter leave the station. “Officer,” he called. “Get me everything you can on Manfredi.” The young officer nodded quickly and hurried off.

Gwen was waiting patiently for him to finish. “He’s just scared,” she answered. “And I don’t feel good about this. We’re pushing him.”

“He’ll be fine…” Stacy said, but his whole body froze as a hush fell over the station. “Gwen… get to my office.” Spider-man stood in the doorway of the station. He hung back with his hand on the door, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. Some of the officers had their hands on their guns. “Stand down!” Stacy called. He motioned Gwen to stay back and he approached the masked young man. “Spider-man,” he greeted.

“Captain Stacy.” His voice was strained. Stacy couldn’t blame him. This was probably like someone stepping into a hornet’s nest. “Can we… talk?” He looked around the station. “In private?”

Stacy nodded.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sir,” the same officer from earlier said. “What if he’s not friendly?”

Stacy looked at the superhero. Yes, there was the possibility that he wasn’t there to make nice. But the way he held himself didn’t radiate anger. If anything, he held himself like he was… scared. Stacy motioned Spider-man towards the backroom where they had just taken Peter. He followed without a word. Watching him move was interesting. Every motion that he made was deliberate. It was almost like he was afraid that if he made the wrong move, someone would start shooting.

Spider-man walked into the interrogation room and he hurried to a corner, settling with his back against the wall and hugging one arm with his other. “I didn’t kill the kid,” he said.

Stacy nodded. He supposed this was better than trying to convince this young man to remove his mask. “I don’t think you did,” he admitted, “but the evidence isn’t in your favor.” He flinched. “What’s your relationship with Peter Parker?”

He lifted his head sharply, leading Stacy to believe that Spider-man knew that name. “I know him,” he muttered.

Stacy crossed his arms. “Are you employing civilians?” Spider-man didn’t move, and Stacy wished that he could see his face. “Peter Parker is a child!”

“He’s not in any danger,” Spider-man grumbled under his breath.

Stacy laughed. He didn’t mean to, but it was clear that Spider-man didn’t know the danger of his life style and the people around him. “That boy came in here and gave me a name! Do you really think he’s not in any danger?”

“He gave you a name?” Stacy nodded and Spider-man cursed. “Manfredi?”

“Yes. Who is that?”

“Someone you need to let _me_ handle,” he said. “Stay out of this. If Peter gave you Manfredi’s name, then you need to back off, or he _will_ be in danger.”

Stacy shook his head with a soft, annoyed chuckle. “You expect the police to stand down from a double homicide to let a masked vigilante do our job for us? You’re what, nineteen?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Not with that build, you aren’t.” Spider-man flinched in what could be interpreted as offense or annoyance. He ignored it for the time being. The kid was probably just as new to this whole thing as they were new to working with these masked freaks.

Spider-man sighed and leaned on the wall with a soft groan. “Look, I didn’t mean to get Pete involved. I hired him to get some good photos for my publicity and I let him use his discretion on what to send to the _Bugle._ I didn’t mean for him to get dragged any further into this than that. If you think he’s in danger, can’t you put him into protective custody or something?”

Stacy pondered the idea; but no one was certain Peter Parker _was_ in danger. “I’ll deploy a patrol car to watch his apartment,” he agreed. “But leave that boy out of this; and everything from here on out.”

“I’ve given you a name,” Spider-man said. “Is that all?”

He narrowed his eyes. He wanted to keep Spider-man here. Clearly they weren’t going to get a better opportunity to get him; on the other hand, if he let Spider-man go now, that would mean building a reputation of willingly letting him go. IF they had that kind of relationship, he might be more willing to come back to them. “Fine. You may leave.” He started for the door. “But, if we call you, you need to come back. This is a catch and release, Spider-man. I want you to succeed out there, but there are channels you need to go through that you are ignoring. Promise me… if I let you go, I _will_ see you again.”

Spider-man didn’t speak for a moment; but Stacy wasn’t going to back down on this one. He didn’t know how much this man’s word was worth, but he wanted to find out. “Fine,” he said at length and then started for the door. Stacy stepped out after him.

“Let him go,” he called to his officers. No one moved to stop Spider-man from leaving. He turned to see the same officer from earlier talking on the phone quietly. “Henderson!” he called. The officer hung up.

“Just on call with the wife, sir,” he said sheepishly.

Stacy crossed his arms and sighed. “I need you for a stake out tonight.” Henderson nodded and Stacy released a long, deep breath. “What a mess…”

 

Peter hurried away from the station the moment he got out the door. Hopefully he had acted well enough so that Stacy didn’t think that he and Spider-man were connected. Letting Stacy think that Peter worked for Spider-man was probably not the best idea, but what other option did he have? How else could he explain what had happened?

“Spider-man!”

Peter froze his walk and debated for a moment to just swing away. He decided against it and he turned instead, dropping his voice the next time he spoke. Gwen Stacy was a smart girl. “Hello,” he greeted. “You’re Stacy’s daughter… aren’t you?”

“I am,” she said with a nod. “I wanted to ask you something…”

“Anything,” he said, trying to keep his words short and sweet. Any longer conversation would end in her figuring it out. Of that he was convinced.

“Do you really know Peter Parker?”

“I do,” he answered. “Why?”

“Is he…” She looked down at her feet. This was probably scary for her. Most people didn’t know anything about him, and her father was probably feeding her lies about how he acted. With the media trying to turn him into a menace to society, he knew that a lot of people were scared of him. “Is he okay?”

Peter stared for a moment, dumbfounded. He hadn’t thought that she cared enough about him to ask Spider-man. “I… I haven’t known him long,” he answered, lowering his voice slightly more. “He just seems like a kid in over his head. Stress is a powerful thing. Maybe… keep an eye on him, will you?”

She smiled. “I will.”

He nodded back at her and fired a web. Just as he got out of sight, his phone rang. He landed on a building to answer it. “Hey, Harry,” he said with a smile. After everything that had gone south today, it was good to hear Harry’s voice.

“Hey, Pete. Do you want to go grab something to eat? My dad’s driving me up the wall, and I need an escape.”

Peter laughed. That was fairly normal for them. Peter was used to being Harry’s escape. “Sure. The usual?”

“You know it,” Harry said with a laugh.

“Good. I’m buying.” Peter hung up before Harry could argue. Now that he had the police seemingly more comfortable with both he and Spider-man, he could afford to relax a little.

He fired a web and swung towards the coffee shop.

 

“I’m going out!” Harry called to no one in particular. Norman wasn’t really paying attention to him and when he did, he just wanted to ramble about all the breakthroughs Oscorp was going to go through in the next year. Harry supposed he should be proud, but the idea of being proud of his father’s achievements like they were his own made his skin crawl. He couldn’t help but think how lucky Peter was to have a name that no one knew instantly. Everything in Harry’s life would be handed to him based solely on his name and that bothered him. He wanted to make a name for himself.

“I didn’t approve of that,” Norman called from his office. “Don’t you have school today, son?”

“Not these exams,” Harry answered.

“Let me see you, then.”

Harry sighed and hurried to his dad’s office. He didn’t want to be late after so many times of berating Peter for the exact same thing. He stood in the doorway of the office and waited patiently for his father to finish typing something. The office was lavish for a personal room in their own private home. His own bedroom was also rather extravagant for a bedroom.

After a few minutes, Norman looked up from his computer. “How’s Peter, Harry?”

“You called me in here to ask about Pete?” he said, lifting his eyebrow.

“I would ask how you are doing, but lately you’ve been avoiding answering that question. I thought it would be a good icebreaker.”

Harry crossed his arms. Since when did father and son need an icebreaker? “He’s fine,” he muttered. “What did you really want?”

Norman smiled despite Harry’s annoyed tone. “I’d like you to go down to the lab with me later. The tech team has developed something they’d like you to try.”

“Is it your green goop?” Harry asked. He meant it as a joke, but his father’s face fell in an annoyed glare. “Kidding, dad. What is it?”

“A glider,” Norman answered, turning the computer to face him. A video played of one of the testers hovering a few feet above the ground. “Your size and weight would be better to test the technology.” He paused and must have noticed Harry’s scowl. “And you have wonderful balance.”

“What’s it for?” Harry asked. “Gonna sell it to Spider-man?”

Norman stood and smoothed his suit down. “That Spider-freak is bad for business, Harry,” he said, obviously not taking Harry’s joking in stride today. “Fisk is convinced that Spider-man will get in the way of our merger.”

“So, the glider is to hunt Spider-man?”

The fact the Norman didn’t answer that bothered Harry more than he figured it should. Instead, Norman walked out of the room, leaving Harry alone. He let the air in the room hang for a moment before he headed out and walked the three blocks to the coffee shop.

Peter was already there and smiling as he walked up. “Hey stranger!” he called. “Have you seen Harry Osborn? He’s usually the one waiting for me, so he must already be here!”

Harry laughed and smacked Peter playfully on the arm. “Yeah, yeah, even a broken clock is right twice a day,” he teased. “You’re paying, right?” He would never let Peter pay, but it was a blessing to see his friend in such good spirits.

“Of course! How much can we get for ten bucks?” he asked.

“Each?”

Peter pulled out a ten as they walked inside. “No, for both.” He smiled and laughed, and Harry joined his laughter; but it was bittersweet. He hated that Peter was struggling with money and he hated that he couldn’t help the Parker family without making them feel lesser. He remembered the day Ben died. His father had told him that Peter’s Uncle had been shot. He wanted to go over there immediately but had remained distant because Norman had told him that it wasn’t becoming of them to get involved.

“That’ll get you a pastry at this establishment.” He pushed the ten back to Peter. “I got it. You can get it next time.”

Peter smiled and they both knew that he wasn’t going to pay next time. Once they had taken a seat, Peter began telling him trivial things about his life. His tone was happy; but Harry could tell something was wrong. After everything that had been going on, he couldn’t imagine that Peter was at peace with the world and what was going on.

“What about that picture you sent to the _Bugle?”_ Harry asked. Peter’s face fell and Harry felt terrible for bringing it up. Peter had probably wanted to go a little while without thinking about it.

Peter sighed. “I had to go talk to the police at it.” He chuckled. “Met Gwen’s dad… for what’s that worth. It was… interesting…” He trailed off and his eyes began scanning the shop.

“Pete?” He stood slowly. “Peter?”

“Get down.”

“What?”

“Get down!” he shouted and suddenly the store became a flurry of bullets and screams. Things started to feel like they were going in slow motion. Glasses exploded and windows shattered, adding to the chorus of yells and gunfire. Harry’s mind took several heartbeats to even process what was happening. He couldn’t see where the bullets were coming from. He couldn’t see anything as his vision blurred and his breath caught in his throat.

Peter grabbed Harry and threw him under the table they were sitting at. A body fell beside him, staring without seeing into the void. A pool of blood formed underneath the woman. Harry studied her face like someone would study a painting. A surprising lack of emotion filled him. Only one thought went through his blank mind; Peter wasn’t under the table with him.

“Peter!” he shouted, his mind finally deciding to process something… Anything. He jumped to his feet and reached out, grabbing his friend’s arm. “Where are you going?” he pleaded.

Peter spun to him and ripped his arm from Harry’s grip. “You need to stay down!”

“Pe—”

“I mean it! Everything’s going to be fine…! Stay do—” He didn’t finish. His voice caught as he suddenly pitched forward and fell onto Harry, dragging them both down to the floor. Harry took much less time to recover. He dragged Peter under the table and fell on top of him as a shield, holding his hands over the two gunshot wounds in his back. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed and begged whoever was listening that the police got there soon; and by some miracle they were both still alive when they arrived.

He didn’t know when the tears started, but by the time the café fell into a death-like silence, all that was left were his own sobs. He turned back to the first woman he had seen. She hadn’t moved and her blood now soaked his pants. Bile rose, burning his throat. The attack couldn’t have lasted more than a couple minutes, but it had felt like an eternity. He could hear sirens in the distance and the dust was settling. After a few minutes, he became aware of other people whimpering in the café. His only concern was Peter. He could feel the blood come a little harder from the wounds with each beat of Peter’s heart.

The tears came faster as he applied more pressure. “Peter!” he begged, nearing hysterics. “Help!” he screamed as the sirens got closer. The response had been quick, but it felt like they had taken a lifetime to get there.

A hand grabbed Harry’s shoulder and he screamed but didn’t attack. He couldn’t without taking his hands off the bullet wounds. “Hey, hey…! It’s okay!” the officer said, holding her hands in front of him. She lifted her head and called for a paramedic. Harry didn’t move until they came and took over. He tried to follow them out, but the officer who had found them stopped him. Instead, he grabbed Peter’s backpack and followed the woman out of what was left of the café. He tried not to look at the carnage. He couldn’t help but survey it, though. Bodies littered the floor like discarded dolls. He could still see the faces of many of them. Terrified… screaming… running for cover. His stomach lurched and the bile that had already been threatening to come up fell from his mouth. The officer rubbed his back as he vomited and coughed and screamed.

When he came to his wits, he was sitting in the back of an ambulance with a warm blanket around his shoulders. He watched the people mill around the attack site without seeing any of it. Peter’s backpack was by his side. He stared numbly at it. Was Peter okay? He reached down into the backpack absently. May would be a wreck… _He_ was a wreck. At the moment, though, he felt nothing; until his hand brushed against something in Peter’s backpack. He gripped it. It felt like a mask of some sort.

“Harry?!”

Harry flinched and looked up to see Norman running towards him. Harry released whatever he was holding and stepped out of the ambulance to greet his father. It was odd. For some reason, it felt like any other time he had seen his father. Shouldn’t he be more grateful to be alive? Shouldn’t he feel _something?_

Norman ran to him and wrapped him into his arms. “Oh God, Harry!” he pleaded, hugging his son tightly. Was he… crying? No… he couldn’t be. Norman Osborn didn’t cry. Norman held him tightly for a minute or two before pulling him back to hold him at arm’s length. He ran his hand through Harry’s hair. “Are you hurt?” he asked. Harry shook his head. “What happened?” He shook his head again. His eyes fell on Norman’s face and his bloodshot eyes and suddenly all those emotions that he felt he should be feeling came flooding to him.

Peter had been shot. He had seen several people gunned down. He had survived a shooting. He fell into Norman’s arms and hugged him like any child would hug a parent after waking up from the worst nightmare of their lives. He was shaking, and crying, and whimpering.

Norman ran his hand through Harry’s hair, rocking him gently. But there was no comfort to be found there.


	9. Circles of Fear

> Chapter Nine: Circles of Fear

Hours later and Harry still felt numb. After he had cried in his father’s arms, he had to listen to the man yell at police officers for ten minutes before he was led home. He was now in his room, clutching Peter’s backpack tightly in his hand. It was almost as if he feared losing the backpack would somehow make him lose Peter. The blood that stained the pack had long since dried.

A knock on the door made him flinch and he turned slowly as the door opened. Norman hung back in the doorway. It was weird. Harry had never seen his father act nervous about anything. Why would now be any different? “Are you—”

“No,” Harry said. He wasn’t okay. Norman looked almost taken aback by Harry’s bluntness. He had always been taught to hide if he wasn’t okay. He half expected his father to roll his eyes and tell him that even if he wasn’t okay, he should at least act like it. Harry’s stomach churned. The fact that Norman was acting this way only added to the terror of the situation. He looked down at the ground.  “I want to go to the hospital. I need to return Pete’s backpack.” He lifted the pack to show his father. Norman took a deep breath, almost as if he was preparing to deny his son’s request. Harry braced himself to start shouting; but it wasn’t needed.

Norman sighed instead and when Harry looked up, he was nodding. “You’re right. Let me call the car,” he said and then he disappeared. Harry buried his head in his hand and took a deep breath in a fruitless attempt to calm his nerves. For some reason, it felt like any other day. It shouldn’t feel like any other day. It should be the worst day of his life. It _was_ the worst day of his life; but it felt normal.

He looked down at the pack and reached down to zip it back up when something inside it caught his eye. Something red. He reached inside, but froze just short of wrapping his hand around the thing. He shouldn’t be snooping into Peter’s stuff. His friend liked his privacy… But something was going on with Peter and he needed to know what it was. Besides, the thing inside was probably a costume mask. His hand grabbed the thing and he pulled it out slowly. The moment he realized what it was, though, he dropped it like someone dropping a hot pot. His hand shook as he stared down at the mask he had discarded on the ground.

Spider-man’s mask.

Harry stared at the mask for a long moment, not processing what he was seeing. Peter was a fan. They had long discussions about Spider-man that had always ended in Peter going quiet and Harry agreeing to disagree. He had never liked that Harry had some hang ups about the wall crawler. He took a look into the pack to see the rest of the outfit stuffed inside. He didn’t want to believe it… but it made too much sense. Peter was always late. After Ben died, he had subtle personality changes. One could chalk those up to losing his father figure; but maybe… just maybe, it was _also_ because he was a superhero.

“That’s… ridiculous…” A knock came from the door and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He snatched up the mask and threw it back into the pack just as Norman stepped into his room.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly. “The driver is ready for us.”

Harry stood slowly. He hadn’t showered since the incident. No one told him to. He had changed out of the bloodstained clothes, but specks of blood still freckled and stained his skin. Norman didn’t mention it or his messy hair. That wasn’t normal. He had grown up being told that every time he stepped out of the house, he should be presentable. Today was different. He didn’t want today to be different.

They got into the limo and Norman made sure everything was locked before he told the driver to go. Harry stared out the window. A lot of people were going about their business without a care in the world. How could one person be having the worst day of their lives while everyone else was having a normal day? For some reason, it made sense that everyone should suffer with everyone else.

He pulled out his phone and looked up the news articles about the shooting. Ten people had been killed, including the two gunmen, six were in the hospital and one had walked out.

“Put that away,” Norman said, reaching and taking the phone from him. He didn’t fight his father. “You don’t need to know all the details about what happened. All you need to know is that you are alive. You’re lucky.”

 _I don’t feel lucky…_ he thought. _I feel sick…_ “Dad… what’s the green goop do?” he asked. Anything to get his mind off of what had happened.

“Formula to aid soldiers,” Norman answered. For the first time, he didn’t sound happy that Harry was asking about that.

“Are we funding wars now?” he grumbled. The words sounded far more bitter than he had intended.

“We have our hands in many different pots, Harry. You know this.” His voice was quiet and longsuffering. He wasn’t being his usual, arrogant self.

“Right…” His hand gripped the pack’s shoulder strap tightly. Peter had done everything in his power to avoid letting people know that he was Spider-man. It might crush him to know that Harry found out. As the limo pulled up to the hospital, he decided to keep it a secret. Peter didn’t need to know.

He stepped into the waiting room where May was pacing the floor. When she saw him, she burst into tears and ran to him. He hugged her tightly as she cried on his shoulder.

 

In the weeks following the shooting, Harry watched and helped Peter recover and go back to school. Midtown High had been kind to both of them. They had been given the opportunity for trauma council, and students and teachers gave them their space if they needed it. Harry had tried to find some sort of normalcy in his life, but everywhere he went, he found himself looking for the nearest place to hide or the nearest exit. His stomach churned every time he passed the shop; even as it was being rebuilt to erase it. The news had chalked up the attack to an act of domestic terrorism, but they found nothing connecting the shooters to anyone.

During those weeks, Harry had started working on his own project. It was something to keep his mind off the attack… and to prepare for another one if one came. He hurried into his house and went into the elevator into the labs below. “Hey, dad!” he called as he threw his jacket and walked through the lab.

“You’re in a good mood,” Norman called back from his office. Lately, they hadn’t done a lot of talking. As Harry threw himself into his own project, Norman had fallen into his. The green goop was beginning chimp trials soon, and with that came all kinds of paperwork. Harry stopped by the man’s personal lab space. “Are you here for your continued work on the glider?”

Harry nodded. “They said they wanted me to do a field test today.” Over the past few weeks, he had been working with the tech team to make the glider better. It was what Norman had wanted him to do anyway, but now he had his own vested interest in the project. A part of him felt like if he could defend himself, then something like the shooting would never happen again. Working on the glider was step one.

“Good,” Norman said with a nod. “Be careful.”

Harry sighed. Now that things had settled down, his father had reverted almost completely back to normal. He seemed nicer… or was it that Harry was more interested in the family business lately. It wasn’t that he was interested in the family. He was interested in helping Peter. He left with that thought in mind. Peter, as Spider-man, risked his life everyday to save complete strangers. No one was risking their lives to save him. Harry wanted to be that someone.

He walked into the tech department and waved at the woman who had been helping him. “Evening, Doctor Cho,” he said with a smile.

“Good evening, Mr. Osborn. Are you ready?” She turned and handed him a flight suit. “A new design for our first field test. Your father requests that you refrain from being seen.” He looked down at the flight suit. It was black leather with green highlights that were probably for late night travel. “Bullet proof,” Cho said with a smile. He stripped down and put on the green under suit before putting on the full suit; including the flight visor. He looked into the mirror as Cho adjusted the suit and entered data into her tablet. “How does it feel?”

He smiled. “Like it was made for me.” He put down the visor. It was narrow and aerodynamic. It had a couple of displays on it that kept track of wind speeds, his own speed, and vitals. It probably had some sort of GPS to get him from point A to point B when needed. “The boots?”

“Will keep you planted on the glider. If you happen to need to get off it…” She grabbed his hand and motioned to the buttons easily accessible by the thumb. “This will release your feet from the glider in case. These other buttons will control your speed.” This was the first time he had been able to move with the machine. “Take it out for twenty minutes and then press this button.” She motioned to a small red one. “That will enable the autopilot. Landing instructions for here are already programmed in. When you do that, just hang on for the ride.”

Harry nodded, thanked her, and then went to the glider. His boots fell into place and he settled into a semi-low crouch. His muscles in his legs were already sore, but he knew he could do this. He _had_ to do this. The helplessness he had felt during the shooting was a feeling he _never_ wanted to feel again. He never wanted to helplessly hold someone he cared about.

And he’d do _anything_ to make sure it never happened again.

 

Ever since the shooting, May had been reluctant to let Peter out of her sight. When he was able to go back to school, she had insisted on driving him and picking him up every day. It made being Spider-man a lot more complicated. Today, though, he had managed to convince her that he didn’t need a ride home. Thanks to his spider powers, he was able to heal a lot faster than most people did; but it still hurt even with a few weeks under his belt. If his doctor knew that he was swinging around the city, he’d have a heart attack.

Peter landed on the top of Fisk tower and rubbed his shoulder. It was the first time that he and Fisk had been able to meet since the shooting. He needed to know who was behind it. He needed to make sure it didn’t happen again. The wait wasn’t long before the big man himself and his assistant stepped out onto the roof. He removed his mask over his mouth. “The shooting,” Peter said. Since both gunmen had killed themselves, he had no way of knowing their motives. He blamed himself for the death of those people. Harry had stopped him from going and getting Spider-man out there, and people had died because of it. He knew he should blame the gunmen for it; but he hadn’t been able to stop it. After the attack, Peter had fallen into desperation but Harry… he was taking it all well… _too_ well.

Fisk sighed and motioned Peter to follow him to the railing. He trailed behind and the assistant followed without a word. She moved carefully; like someone trained in the art of walking without a sound. “I think the attack was orchestrated by Manfredi and the Maggia,” Fisk said. Peter froze in mid-step. The name Manfredi sent a shiver down his spine. He had hoped to never hear that name again.

“Why do you say that?” he asked quietly, trying to keep his voice calm and steady.

“I think the attack was meant for Harry Osborn,” Fisk said, turning to Peter. “He’s not happy with the partial merger of Fisk and Oscorp.”

Peter crossed his arms. “Why?”

“Oscorp has prime real estate. If I get a hold of that, it would be very bad for the Maggia.”

“A turf war?” Peter grumbled, crossing his arms. All this… so many people dead, for a plot of land. “What’s so prime about his real estate?” he asked.

“Docks are extremely useful for business; especially for organized crime. The Maggia doesn’t want me getting my hands on land that they could be using.” He motioned in the direction of the docks. “Currently, the land on the water that Oscorp owns is sitting unused by the company; meaning the Maggia has been using it.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “So… if you get it… you _will_ use it?” Fisk nodded. “And Manfredi would target Harry because…?”

“A warning,” Fisk answered. “Unless someone else in that room was a target.”

Peter shook his head. If it _was_ Manfredi, there was a possibility that Peter Parker had been the target. He had taken the picture and had sent the police on the man. Surely, if he knew who had done it, he would go after him. “I wouldn’t know.”

“And, where were you?”

Peter sighed. He figured that would come up. “I was busy. The attack took all of five minutes. I can’t be everywhere at once.”

Fisk nodded. “That makes sense. We’ll monitor the situation; but if you want to keep the people of this city safe, Manfredi needs to be behind bars.”

That made sense… it didn’t mean that Peter liked it. “I’ll do what I can.” Before Fisk could say anything, Peter fired a web and jumped off the building. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t on the right track. There was something off about Fisk. Maybe it was because the first time they had interacted, Fisk had sent two assassins after him. Most people didn’t do that as a way to get someone’s attention.

His phone rang and he landed. “Hey, Aunt May,” he answered. “I’m on my way home.” She laughed softly. He knew that she was calling just to hear his voice. “Need me to pick up anything?”

“Eggs,” she said.

“Eggs! Got it!”

Just as he said good-bye and hung up, a shout of pain came from the alley below. He sighed and jumped from the roof, landing on a fire escape to see three men ganging up on a kid. Peter rolled his eyes as he jumped down between the men and their victim. “You’ve got a lot of nerve doing this kind of stuff in my neighborhood,” Peter said.

The man in the middle pulled out a gun and Peter bit his lip. Without the victim, this would be easy, but any bullet he dodged could result in the teen standing behind him getting hit. He held up his hands. Most low-level thugs didn’t want to add murder to their list of crimes.

“Come on, man… You know you don’t want to do this.”

Before the man could say anything, another player showed up. Someone riding what looked like some experimental glider thing jumped down from the device, landing behind the would-be muggers. Peter cocked his head. Whoever this was, he was wearing some high-tech flight suit.

The mugger groaned and nodded at his companions. They ran at Peter while the leader of their trio went after the new guy. Peter jumped over the attackers and whipped around. Their victim took all the chaos as her chance to flee. Peter made quick work of the two criminals and once he had them webbed down, he wheeled around in time to see the mugger smack the new guy hard against the side of his helmet with the hilt of his gun. Peter took a moment to watch. He knew he should get involved. This new kid wasn’t experience and by the way he moved, he had no training _or_ powers. Peter hesitated long enough for the mugger to get the flight suit guy on the ground before he lunged, webbing him up.

“Who are you?” he asked.

The newcomer stood slowly. “I want to help,” he said. The way he talked made it clear that he was using a voice changer.

Peter rubbed his head. “I appreciate it… but I work alone.”

“I know,” he answered. “But you don’t _have_ to. You can’t be everywhere at once… can you?”

Peter leaned against the wall and examined the webbing on his suit, flexing his fingers. “I can’t,” he answered. “But you are just going to get yourself killed.”

“But…”

Peter threw a punch. He hadn’t meant to hit the guy. If anything, he had hoped he could move quick enough to dodge. He wasn’t even that good. He stumbled back against the wall, holding his chest where the punch had made contact. “You don’t have powers… you don’t have any training. I appreciate you, but you are just a liability.” He motioned to the men on the ground. “You couldn’t even handle one guy with a gun. I know what it’s like to want to help people… but not everyone is made for this job.” He felt bad about it, but this kid needed to know that he wasn’t cut out for this job. The boy bowed his head, making Peter sigh. “Look, if you want to make a difference, stay in school and get yourself a badge.” The boy clenched his fists. “I mean it. You’ve got heart. That’s half the battle.”

He said nothing as he walked away. Peter watched him go before calling the police to have them pick up the thugs; and then he was gone to get the eggs.

 

Harry landed in the lab, discarding the helmet on the ground. Luckily, he didn’t shatter the very expensive piece of equipment. Peter had rejected him… And the worst part was that Peter was _right._ He wasn’t cut out for crime fighting. He had nothing that could possibly translate into crime fighting skills. Why did he think that getting a glider would change that?

After he gave the report to Cho, Harry walked to the locker room to remove the suit. He leaned on the sink. He had to do _something._ He couldn’t sit back and do nothing. He needed to help Peter. He needed to make sure he never felt helpless again! He had felt helpless today. That man with the gun… he could have ended Harry’s life.

He peeled off the suit and stared at himself in the mirror. He wanted to laugh. Who was he? The son of a billionaire? Best friend to Spider-man? He was scrawny. He was pale. He had lived a sheltered life where things never worked out how he wanted them to. His whole life, he had learned helplessness. Any time he got into any trouble, it was his name or his father’s money that got him out of it. For once in his life, he wanted to stand up on his own two feet… to have an identity where he had to work for the respect that his name gave him automatically.

He left the locker after replacing his shirt and headed out into the lab. Norman was walking with someone, talking rapidly about the trials. Harry paused in front of the goop lab… as he called it. Captain America had started out normal… Peter had started out normal… He stepped into the lab. The air was cold inside. He reached for one of the vials. The mice trials had gone well.

“This is ridiculous,” he berated. He knew what he should do; walk away. He looked at the small vial in his hand. It didn’t look like it was enough to hurt anyone. He reached to put it back where he had gotten it. Taking it was probably the dumbest thing he had ever thought to do. Instead of putting it back, his wrapped his hand around it and pocketed it.

He needed it.


	10. Would You Still Call Me Superman?

> Chapter Ten: Would You Still Call Me Superman?

Peter ripped off his mask as he landed in the alleyway. “Who was that?” he asked the sky. It had no answers for him. That was normal. The sky wasn’t great for conversation. He rolled his eyes and threw on his street clothes over his suit. It didn’t matter. Whoever it was had gotten his butt handed to him. Maybe that was the wake up call he had needed.

He sighed as he walked into the apartment, handing off the eggs to May. “I’m not hungry,” he grumbled. He had research to do. Fisk had given him a lot of names and a lot of things to dig into. He hadn’t wanted to get involved with Manfredi… at least not this soon. Maybe one day he could take on organized crime, but he was still too green to deal with it. But Manfredi had forced his hand. Whether he was the target or Harry was, it didn’t matter. People were dead and more would be dead soon if Spider-man didn’t stop it.

He started for his bedroom. “Peter?” He froze and clenched his fists. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good, Aunt May,” he muttered. He knew what she was thinking. How much could he go through before he cracked? The thought had crossed his mind frequently. At what point did a person crash due to the trauma? She didn’t even know half the stuff he had been through in the past year. His stomach churned every time he thought about it.

She crossed the room to him and suddenly a wave of guilt washed over him. He could handle it. He knew that… but could she? Over the last year, she had watched him lose his uncle, fail hard in school and now he was one of the few survivors in a public shooting. She was probably a nervous wreck. He allowed her to wrap him in a tight embrace. He couldn’t decide if he was being selfish or selfless by being Spider-man. It had been good therapy for him, but it had turned his relationship with Aunt May into a frayed mess. It had turned every relationship he had into strained disasters. It was ruining him; but he couldn’t stop.

He returned her embrace just as tightly, burying his head in her arms. None of this made sense to her. _Aunt May…_ he thought sadly. _I’m Spider-man… and I’m sorry._ He stayed there for a long moment before he finally broke away from her. “I’m fine,” he assured her. They were empty words, and he wished he could give her more, but they were all he had.

He could offer her no comfort as the days went on, either. His grades started slipping again as he spent more and more time trying to find anything on the Maggia. What made matters worse was that his friend in the black and green flight suit kept appearing. Peter landed heavily on the ground. It was well into the night and he had a test the next day in Spanish, but he wasn’t studying. Instead, he was following a lead that Fisk had given him. “Fisk doesn’t know I’m just a high school kid,” he reasoned to no one. “That’s why he thinks I can be out at all hours of the night.”

He leaned against the wall and fought off a yawn. This better not be another dead end like the last few times he had followed one of Fisk’s or Ghost’s leads. How hard could it be to find Manfredi? “And what do you plan on doing when you find him?” he asked himself. “Ask him nicely to stop killing people? Hey, Manfredi… could you please not orchestrate anymore public shootings? That would be great, sir.” He paused, and then nodded as if he were responding to someone else speaking. “Of course. I’ll stay out of your business if you stay out of mine.”

“Is this what being a superhero does to you?”

Peter jumped and spun around. Somehow, he had missed the glider heading towards him. He sighed and started walking. “Look… I get what you’re trying to do, but you really… _really_ need to stay out of this.”

“Do I?” he asked.

“Yes.” Peter walked through the alleyway.

“I’ve started taking martial arts classes,” he tried to argue, hovering behind Peter.

“That’s great,” Peter grumbled. Martial arts skills would be helpful, but that wasn’t all that this guy was missing.

“Give me a chance?” he asked.

Peter closed his eyes. He had given the guy many chances. Peter had to admit that he was getting better, but he was still quite a ways away from being a superhero. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Alright,” he said with a nod. “Let’s go.”

“Are you going to brief me on what you’re doing?”

“Right now, we’re going to break into this building and hopefully take down whoever is in there and get information,” Peter explained. HE stopped short of knocking through the door. “Before we go in there, you have to promise me that you will do _everything_ I tell you. And if I tell you that you are done, then you _are_ done.”

The boy nodded. “Right.”

“But first, who the hell are you? I get secret identities, but you have to give me some sort of name.”

His friend seemed taken aback by the question; as if he hadn’t been expecting it. He looked up at the sky for a moment and then released a long sigh. “Goblin,” he said with a nod.

Peter shrugged. He couldn’t complain… He had named himself a spider, after all.

 

Harry watched as Peter hit the door and stepped into the building. He was glad that Peter didn’t ask him where the name had come from. It was the prototype name of the glider that he was currently using. He hovered in behind Peter. He hadn’t taken the vial. That had been stupid; but the more he failed with Peter, the harder it was becoming to resist using the green goop. This was his chance to prove himself. He had poured everything into learning martial arts, but he wasn’t making the progress he wanted to make.

He glided in beside Peter. They were met with just one person waiting for them in the warehouse. “Spider-man!” the man inside called. He lifted his arms with a laugh. “I was wondering when you and I would meet!”

Peter grabbed one of his wrists and flexed his hand. “Should I _know_ who you are?” he asked.

The man laughed. “Maybe. Perhaps not, though. You’re new to this game, aren’t you?” He stood and cracked his knuckles, stepping into one of the spotlights. He wasn’t as big of a man as Fisk, but he was still rather large with a flat skull.

“Hammerhead?” Harry asked. Peter turned to him. He had seen a picture of the guy in a file on his father’s desk.

“Aha! The new kid knows what’s up,” Hammerhead laughed. He cracked his knuckles. The sound echoed throughout the room. “I don’t have orders for you,” he said to Harry. “But I do have my orders to get rid of Spider-man.”

Peter didn’t flinch. “We just want information. All you need to do is answer a few questions and we’ll be out of your hair.”

Hammerhead laughed softly. “I’ll make you a deal, Spider-kid. You get a punch in, and I’ll answer your questions. I get a punch in, and you answer mine.”

Peter lowered himself into a crouch. “I like games,” he said. There was a bit of humor in his voice. Harry looked to Peter. He didn’t know what he was getting into. He kicked the glider and hovered a few feet off the ground. “What about my friend? Who gets to ask questions if he gets a hit?”

Hammerhead smirked. He didn’t answer as he charged forward like a bull running towards a bullfighter. Peter was a lot nimbler than Hammerhead. He jumped out of the way, lunging over the man and firing webs. Harry moved away from the fight. This was Pete’s element.

Hammerhead was a tank. What he lacked in speed and grace, he made up in brute strength and gunplay. Peter dodged with the grace and power of a dancer and all Harry could do was watch the fight from afar. It was almost painful to watch because he knew he would never have that kind of power.

Neither one got the punch in. Peter lunged to the ceiling and held on. While he was up there, Hammerhead changed tactics. He went for Harry. Harry gasped and tried to spin away, but everything had happened too quickly. The lacky grabbed the gilder and hurled it towards the wall. Harry panicked and pressed the button, releasing the boots from the device and slamming onto the ground.

Before he had a chance to regain anything, Hammerhead got him hard against the face, sending him to the wall. The impact jarred his body and he felt his bones shift. Something was broken. He dropped to the ground as Peter shouted in fear and annoyance. He landed near Harry and then crouched over him like a dog protecting her young. “Are you okay?” Peter whispered. Harry could only offer him a soft squeak.

Hammerhead laughed. “Looks like I got the first hit in.”

“Wasn’t me,” Pete argued.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Peter looked down at Harry and then he sighed. He probably knew that this was hopeless as long as Harry was injured and could easily become a bargaining chip. “Fine. What’s your question?”

Hammerhead smiled and crossed his arms. He kept his hand on his gun. “What’s your stake in all this? A few people have been killed. People die in this city every day. Why bother?”

Peter looked at Hammerhead and then moved his gaze to Harry. “I know people get hurt in this city,” he said at length. “I have to protect as many people as I can, for the people I didn’t.”

Harry closed his eyes. He was talking about Ben. There was no one else he would be referring to.

Hammerhead didn’t seem moved by Peter’s answer. Instead, he moved on. “You’re working with Fisk, aren’t you? You’re protecting the merger of Fisk Industries and Oscorp. Why?”

“So what if I am? As far as I’ve seen, the only blood here is on Manfredi’s hands.”

Hammerhead clicked his tongue. “You really are new to this game, aren’t you Spider-man?” Peter tensed and Harry opened his eyes. He didn’t sound angry anymore. He sounded like he was full of pity. “Fisk wants those docks to peddle drugs. That territory is covered by cops who are easily paid off. You’re helping the Kingpin win a Turf war that’ll bring an entirely new drug industry into this city.”

Peter shook his head. “And Manfredi is trying to stop it?” he scoffed.

“Heavens no!” Hammerhead laughed. “There isn’t a right side to this war, kid.”

“What about Oscorp?” Harry gasped, unable to stop himself from questioning this. His father couldn’t know what Fisk was up to. If he did, he wouldn’t be doing this.

“No idea,” Hammerhead said with a shrug. He started leaving and Peter tensed but didn’t go after him. Instead, he lifted Harry into his arms.

“Where do you need to be?” he asked, gritting his teeth. Harry sighed. Where could he get dropped off so not to let Peter know who he was?

“The hospital,” he grumbled. His shoulder was broken, and he needed to get that taken care of. Peter nodded and took off. Neither spoke the entire way to the hospital and after Peter had made sure a doctor was seeing him, he was gone. Harry reached into his pocket and picked up his phone. He wasn’t helping Peter… he was hindering him. Peter probably would have won that fight if he hadn’t been there.

He needed to do something… he needed to be helpful to Peter instead of hindering him. He closed his eyes. Maybe… just maybe he needed powers to be any sort of helpful to Spider-man.

The called went to voicemail. “Hey dad…” Harry muttered after the beep. “You’ll never guess where I am…”

 

Norman felt the buzzing in his pocket, but he decided that whoever was calling him could wait. He stood as a woman walked into the waiting room and motioned him to follow her back. He had been made to wait for two hours. It was a powerplay. Manfredi knew that if he could make Norman Osborn wait, then he had control of the situation; control over Osborn.

He stepped into the dimly lit room and it was like stepping back in time. The office was dark In both lighting and décor, and it was styled so old that it could have been a set for a movie set in the twenties. Norman nodded graciously to the secretary as she left him alone with the elderly man sitting behind an ancient wooden desk. “Getting an audience with you is very difficult, Silvio,” he said as he sat down on the ornate chair opposite to the desk. He knew that Manfredi had ignored his calls on purpose. He wasn’t busy; at least not _that_ busy. He just wanted to make Norman squirm.

“And what do I owe the pleasure, Norman?” Manfredi asked. Even without seeing him well, Norman knew that the man was smirking. He was loving this.

“The shooting a few weeks ago… That was you, wasn’t it?” He cut directly to the chase. There was no reason to beat around the bush with pleasantries.

Manfredi wrung his fingers together. It wasn’t a nervous habit. He was stalling. Norman had used these tactics many times. It was almost insulting that Manfredi thought it would work on him. But that was the point, wasn’t it? “Yes,” he said at length. “That was me.”

“Why?” Norman asked. He hated this. He hated having to come to people and ask their opinion or their help. He hated not knowing. The cards weren’t his and he needed them back.

Manfredi shook his head. “The photographer was in the building,” he said bluntly. “He needed to die, so I went after him. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Norman rubbed the bridge of his nose. Yes, he would have preferred that this had gone better. He had wanted to do this without bloodshed. “So, that alley shooting was you as well? How did they know?”

“Apparently the photographer snitched to the police,” Manfredi said. Norman was happy that the man was cooperating now.

“And who is the photographer?” He wished that Manfredi would be a little more open about his information. Without their partnership, everything would fall apart.

“A young boy named Peter Parker.”

A shiver went down Norman’s spine. Peter? How could Peter be involved in this? _Why_ would he? “That’s my son’s best friend,” he breathed. It wasn’t a good idea to let the man know that Norman knew the photographer, but they had to draw lines. The merger with Fisk Industries was almost closed and any hiccup could ruin it.

“That would explain why Harry was in the room during the attack. That was unfortunate.”

He didn’t sound like he thought it was unfortunate. Norman wrung his hands. Peter was on Manfredi’s hit list? He couldn’t tell Harry to distance himself from Peter. The boy would have a fit if he tried to do that. Now he really wasn’t holding any of the cards. Manfredi was building a case against Fisk to get him locked away before the ink on the contracts dried. The merger would leave a good portion of the company in Norman’s hands after Fisk was put away, and then Manfredi would get the docks. Norman couldn’t afford any snags. Everything needed to go perfectly. Peter’s interference could ruin everything.

If it had been anyone else, Norman would have ordered their death and he wouldn’t lose sleep over it. Peter was a kid that spent the night at his house; had eaten dinner with his family. Maybe if it was one of his own friends, he could let it slide, but Peter was Harry’s friend.

Before he could speak, his phone rang again. This time, he picked it up. Manfredi had made him wait, so Norman would answer his phone in this meeting. Manfredi may have all the cards, but he needed Norman and his land. “Hello?”

“Mr. Osborn? This is Nurse Preston from New York-Presbyterian Lower Manhattan Hospital. Your son is here.”

For the second time in the past five minutes, Norman’s blood ran cold. “Is he okay?” he snapped, trying to keep his voice calm.

“He’s fine, sir. He was dropped off here by Spider-man.”

Norman clenched his fists. “I’ll be there shortly. Thank you.” He hung up and turned back to Manfredi. “Why is Peter involved in this?” he asked, trying to move this conversation along. Harry had been brought to the hospital by Spider-man? Why? What was he doing out there? He had school in the morning.

“According to my sources in the station, Peter Parker is employed by Spider-man as a publicist. At least to get good pictures of him doing good things. Apparently, Peter saw the whole murder in the alley. That’s why we went after him.”

“Spider-man, you say?” That name had been coming up a lot in his life lately. First the attack on one of his employees, then Harry and now this? Something was going on with their resident superhuman and he didn’t want to give the kid enough time to figure out all the connections in this web. “Then kill the Spider.”

Manfredi laughed. “Easier said than done, Norman.” His laughter stopped. “But we are on the same wavelength. The Spider is bad for business and the closer he gets to figuring this out, the more dangerous this gets. He’s already gotten the police involved. He will die.”

Norman nodded slowly. “Good.” He stood but paused before leaving. “Spider-man may not be easy to get rid of, but I trust you can have him gone long before he messes up anymore of our plans.” He glared at the man, narrowing his eyes. Harry could get caught in the crosshairs of this disaster. “Kill Spider-man… but don’t hurt Peter.”


	11. Secrets Have a Cost...

> Chapter 11: Secrets Have a Cost...

Peter crept into his room, moving slowly and carefully so not to wake May. His head was buzzing with the new information that he had learned. Fisk was… He shook his head. Manfredi was playing him against the man. He was worried. He reached up to remove his mask, but his hand hovered over his head. He looked to his clock. 1:30 am. He had to be up in a few hours to get to school. “That’s enough time,” he muttered. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he didn’t at least try to figure out what Fisk was doing. He sighed and hurried out the window.

The night was cooler than usual. Spring was coming soon, but for now, the last of winter was holding on for dear life. As he ran over the rooftops, he tried to convince himself that he was being stupid. Fisk wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t be doing something like monger drugs. He had a legit business. What was the point of dealing drugs and risking the empire he had built? Manfredi was playing him for a fool.

Peter landed near the docks and looked at the warehouses that Oscorp owned. He laughed a little. “What were you expecting, Pete?” he berated. “That you’d find a drug deal happening? This land isn’t even Fisk’s yet.” He shook his head. Maybe Goblin was right. He  _was_  going crazy. The only thing that this was accomplishing was diminishing the already dwindling amount of sleep he got at night. He scoffed at his own stupidity and started for the edge of the building. If he left now, he could be home before 3 and get a solid two and a half hours of sleep that night.

Just as he went to jump, movement caught the corner of his eye. He paused in mid-crouch and mentally debated with himself. He should leave it. He wasn’t going to find anything here. Why would he? There was nothing  _to_  find.  _You won’t sleep unless you check it out,_ he thought begrudgingly. He turned and followed the van slowly making its way through the backstreets. After a few minutes, the driver pulled the vehicle over and Peter crouched, watching as two men dressed in all black stepped out of the van. He clenched his fists and waited.

Almost half an hour passed before another car pulled up. This one was a lot fancier than the van. It pulled over behind the van and the door opened. Peter’s breath caught as Fisk himself and his two assassins stepped out behind him. He clenched his fists. He recognized Ghost and the silent girl from his first encounter with them. Fisk walked to the van and opened the back of it. The silent girl walked into the van and then dragged out a cuffed and gagged man, throwing him to the ground in front of Fisk.

Fisk looked down at the man and smiled. Peter couldn’t hear a word that was being said, but this… this wasn’t what he was expecting to find. He tensed and prepared to jump into action to save the man, but before he could, a gunshot rang out. The bound man fell to the ground as his blood spread over the ground. Peter stumbled away from the edge of the building. It wasn’t proof of the drugs, but it was proof that Fisk wasn’t the man he believed him to be. Before anyone could know he was there, Peter spun and ran from the scene.

He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t  _want_  to believe it. Fisk wasn’t a monster. He couldn’t be. Peter couldn’t be working with someone like that. The run back to the apartment was a blur and he got inside without being careful about it. He discarded his mask. It somehow felt dirty on his face. He looked at the clock. Four am… He removed the rest of his suit and fell onto his bed without bothering to cover up.

The night wasted away and when his alarm went off, Peter had gotten no sleep.

 

Harry said nothing to his father as they drove home from the hospital. He stared out the window. How was he going to explain this to Peter? He had seen his alter ego break his shoulder. He couldn’t show up to school the next day with the same injury.

“Dad…” he muttered softly. “The merger with Fisk…”

Norman laughed. “Interested in the family business, son?” he asked. Harry said nothing. “Why were you out there in the middle of the night in the flight suit?”

Harry sighed. Why did he think he could hide this from his father? “I was testing the suit,” he muttered. He needed to rework the suit so Norman wouldn’t recognize it.

“And that’s how you broke your shoulder?” Harry nodded. “Damn it, son! What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that we have tech in this building and we aren’t using it to help people,” Harry snapped.

“Most of our tech is still in development.”

Harry clenched his fists. “Why are we working with Fisk?” he asked suddenly. He didn’t want Norman to have an inclination of what he was doing, but he had to know. Norman didn’t answer him. “He’s a drug peddling criminal!”

Norman slammed on the breaks and turned to Harry, looking him dead in the eye. Harry shifted uncomfortably, looking around them. No one else was on the streets and for a brief moment, he wondered if he had pushed his father too far. Norman clenched the steering wheel. “Son… you need to stay out of the Fisk deal,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Dad…”

“I’m trying to protect you! You are not ready for this company!”

Harry narrowed his eyes. So, it was true. Fisk was peddling drugs and Oscorp knew that. He said nothing and the two of them stayed locked in a deadlock for several moments before Norman started forward again. Harry bowed his head. Was this the legacy he was supposed to inherit? He had known that the Osborn name was built on sweat and blood, but he didn’t know that it wasn’t all Osborn blood.

Neither spoke as they pulled up to the Oscorp building and walked inside. Harry muttered a simple good night to his father and then went to his room, locking the door behind him. He opened the drawer on his nightstand and pulled out the vial of green liquid. His father was driving this company down a path that they could never recover from. He took a syringe and filled it. He knew he shouldn’t, but he had to. He had to help Peter… he had to salvage the Osborn name. He plunged the syringe into a vein on his broken arm and pushed the plunger.

At first, nothing happened. He waited silently on his bed and just when he thought he had pumped his veins with a dud formula, his senses dialed up. Suddenly the pain in his shoulder grew exponentially. He grabbed a pillow and screamed into it as his shoulder healed due to the formula coursing through his veins.

Sweat poured from his body and he fell back onto the bed, gasping for air. He tried to call out to anyone, but he couldn’t find enough breath to shout. Tears fell from his eyes as his body convulsed, trying to decide if it wanted to accept the formula or just kill him. He fell off the bed and to the ground, shaking violently as his vision faded.  _What… did I do…?_

 

Peter stared up at his school. He could barely keep his eyes open. Sleep hadn’t come to him and he hadn’t been able to stomach any food that morning. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to focus on his classes today, but he couldn’t afford to skip anymore classes.

“Pete!”

He flinched and turned to see Gwen jogging towards him. “Hey,” he yawned.

“You look like death.”

He felt like death. “I haven’t been sleeping well,” he grumbled. That wasn’t a lie. Her face went from worry to pity, and he knew what she was thinking; that he was still affected by the shooting and all the other terrible things that had happened to him. He was, but that wasn’t the reason for this particular sleepless night. “You seen Harry?” He didn’t want to dwell on this subject very long.

She shook her head. “No. He’s been distant, too.”

Peter sighed. He felt bad that Gwen had to be the outsider of their loose trio, but he was happy that she hadn’t had to go through what they were going through. Peter rested his head on his hand and then started for the building. Gwen stayed by his side in an attempt to keep him up and moving.

“Hey guys!”

They looked up as Harry opened the door for them. Peter looked at his friend and noticed something… off about him. He couldn’t quite place it and he chalked it up to his sleep-deprived mind. “Morning, Harry,” he yawned again. Harry slapped him on the back.

“Still not getting enough sleep?” he asked. Peter shook his head. He had a free period that day. Maybe he could get some sleep there.

The morning went by as slowly as it could and then the day followed. He didn’t eat at lunch, didn’t speak to anyone during the day. It was like his school life was slowly ceasing to matter. He needed to stop everything. It all had to end, and he had to be the one to end it.

The second the bell rang, Peter was gone without saying anything to anyone. Now that his blood was pumping, he was awake and ready. His only hope was that Goblin didn’t get involved. He jumped onto the roof of Fisk tower and paced. This was a bad idea. He knew that. But what else could he do? He needed to make it clear to Fisk that he wasn’t doing anything for that man anymore. He wasn’t about to help a crime syndicate.

He crawled down the wall and ended up at Fisk’s window. The hulking man opened the window to let him in. “We don’t have a meeting today, Spider-man,” he said.

Peter crossed his arms. “You lied to me.”

Fisk froze his walk back to his desk. “I did… what?” he asked. Peter faltered a little. The man’s tone was striking.

He swallowed his fear. “You lied to me. This… this is a criminal operation.”

Fisk laughed softly. “You’ve been busy, Spider-man. Who told you that? Osborn? Manfredi?”

“Hammerhead,” Peter said truthfully. He wanted to give Fisk the chance to defend himself. The quiet girl stepped into the office but froze once she realized what was happening. Peter hoped she just backed off. He didn’t want anyone getting hurt.

“Do you think he was telling the truth?” His tone was nonchalant and bored sounding.

“I didn’t,” he admitted. He didn’t want to believe Hammerhead and he probably would have sat on this information except for one vital detail. “Until I saw you execute a man this morning.”

Fisk sighed and bowed his head. “You really should have left it alone, Spider-man.” His voice was full of regret. Peter clenched his fists. “This could have all ended well for you. Maybe even with a paycheck at the end.”

“I don’t want your blood money,” Peter snapped.

“No… I suppose you wouldn’t.” He turned to Peter and offered him a knowing grin. “I was going to let you off the hook once this was all over. You’re just a kid, after all.”

Peter clenched his fists but didn’t flinch. He noticed the woman back out of the room and disappear, leaving him alone with the man. That didn’t make him feel any better, but he was happy she was out of harm’s way. Fisk couldn’t know that Peter was just a child. He couldn’t… “I wanted this to turn out differently too, Fisk.”

Fisk laughed, shaking his head. “No, you didn’t. You stuck your nose where it didn’t belong. You wanted to find something wrong.” He stepped towards Peter, towering over him. Peter’s breath caught, but he didn’t back down. He couldn’t. He had to show Fisk that he wasn’t afraid. “Should I tell you Osborn’s stake in all of this?”

“He doesn’t know what you’re doing!”

“Such a naïve little boy you are.” His gaze fell over Peter’s body like a snake eyed a mouse and suddenly he felt like nothing more than a small child. All his powers didn’t make him feel anything more than a kid. He was a kid. How often had he forgotten that he was still just a child? “Do you honestly think that Osborn doesn’t know who he’s getting in bed with? That man wouldn’t use a mouse in his experiments without a full pedigree.” He shook his head. “You know nothing, boy! You are a weeping welp and that’s all you’ll ever be!” He stepped towards Peter. “You  _dare_  come into my office and interrogate me on how I run my business? You? An insignificant little brat! You’ve started a war that you can’t win!” His voice boomed and shook the room. Peter took another step back. This was a mistake. This whole thing was a mistake! He should have left it alone when he found those blasted papers in the alleyway.

He started for the window.

“Run all you want,” Fisk called after him. “I know where you live, Peter Parker!”

Peter froze just short of jumping from the window. What… had he said…? His name… His civilian name! His breath suddenly came in short, desperate gasps. No… He couldn’t… He couldn’t know! He spun towards Fisk. He knew his face was pale. His whole body was trembling.

The man was smiling at him. Even with his mask, Fisk clearly knew what was going through Peter’s head. “You thought you could just get out of this? You thought that you could just escape? Where were you going to go, Peter?” The fact that he said his name made Peter feel filthy. “The police? Only one police officer even trusts Spider-man!”

Peter couldn’t speak. All he could do was stare at Fisk. He should have denied it; should have done something to try and discredit his theory that he was Peter Parker, but it was too late now. The damage had been done.

Fisk kept talking. “Yes… Peter Parker. Nephew to the deceased Ben Parker and the still-living May Parker.” Peter tried to swallow. He couldn’t. His throat felt like he had gone into anaphylaxis shock. He felt like he was going to vomit as Fisk prattled off his address. “Yes… May Parker. A kindly woman, I would imagine. Does she know?” Peter shook his head slowly. He knew he shouldn’t be answering but that was all he could do. “Then showing up at your doorstep will be quite a surprise to her.”

Something in Peter snapped at the thought of Aunt May being put in danger. “If you hurt her, I will  _kill_  you!” he hissed in a truly terrifying display of tranquil fury. Fisk didn’t seem bothered.

“I’d like to see you try, Petey.”

Without concern for his own safety, Peter ran at Fisk. He was nothing more than a fat old man. But when he slammed his fist into Fisk’s stomach, instead of fat giving way, he hit a wall of muscle. The muscles in his arm jostled and his shoulder was almost jarred out of his socket. Fisk moved faster than Peter was expecting. He grabbed Peter’s arm and twisted with enough strength to crack a bone before throwing him hard to the ground, shattering the floor around him. The air left his lungs upon impact and he couldn’t move. Fisk put a foot to Peter’s chest and stepped down hard on him. “I didn’t want to do this, Peter. I wanted our partnership to end on good terms!” He pressed down harder. Peter let out a soft, gasping squeak. “Now… I will kill you, and everyone that you love, you little shi—”

He kicked Peter hard against his head at the last word. Peter rolled over with the impact, whimpering softly. He still couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Fisk came again, kicking him hard in the gut before aiming a solid punch to Peter’s face. His vision exploded white before slowly fading to black.

When he woke, he felt like he had been hit by a truck  _before_  his powers. It was dark. He was lying in an alleyway covered in garbage. “May…” he gasped, struggling to his feet. “May!” He started running, stumbling at first and holding his cracked arm against his belly. How could he have been so stupid? When did he slip up? How long had Fisk known?

His legs weren’t working well, and when he started swinging, he ignored the white hot pain coming from his injured arm. He had to get home. Even with all his pain, he managed to stumble his way through the city towards his apartment. He ripped off his mask as he neared his backpack and put on his jacket and pants over his suit. He didn’t care about the blood that caked his face from his bloody nose, split lip and other cuts. All he could see was his apartment covered in blood and May’s body lying on the floor. He didn’t know what he would do if that happened. He threw open the door to the apartment. “Aunt May!” he gasped in a mix between a shout and a horrified scream.

The scene he ran in on wasn’t the one he was expecting.

May lifted her head from where she was cooking in the kitchen. Her smile faded. “Peter?” she said and then she took in his appearance. His face was bloodied and tear stained, and the swelling on his arm had gone up as he had agitated the injury during his mad dash home. “Peter!” She ran to him and held his head in her hands. “Oh my God, Peter! What happened?”

She was okay? There was no way that he had beaten Fisk here. May wasn’t his target.

“Peter?” May urged, shaking his shoulder. He shook his head, unresponsive between the pain in his body and the brain teaser Fisk had left him. “Peter!” She grabbed her purse. They were going to the hospital. That wasn’t good. He was fully suited underneath his clothes.

 _You started a war._ How? What was Fisk after? What was his opening move of this war? May started leading him towards the door. He let it happen. _Only one police officer trusts you!_ One police officer. His muddled mind worked through it. Only one…

“Captain Stacy!” Peter gasped suddenly. He broke away from May and tore down the hall with her screaming at him to come back. He ran down one flight of stairs, shedding his civvies as he ran, before jumping out of the window. Everything hurt, but he continued to ignore it. His muscles were tearing in his arms and back, and his head was swimming and throbbing with each rapid beat of his heart.

The swing to Captain Stacy’s house felt like an eternity. By the time he made it there, he was exhausted and hurting so much that he didn’t feel the pain anymore. He barely noticed the car sitting several hundred feet from the house. “Captain Stacy!” Peter screamed. Before he could get anywhere near the building, it went up in flames, blowing shrapnel and debris everywhere. The shockwave threw him to the ground, jarring his already battered body.

It took him several minutes to regain anything resembling composure. He stumbled into the building. The heat meant nothing to him as he fumbled his way through the burning ruble. “Captain Stacy!” he cried out. When he stumbled across Stacy’s body, his body went cold despite the flaming inferno around him. The explosion hadn’t been the thing that killed him.

“ _Dad?!”_  Peter spun to see Gwen standing in the door holding a towel to her face. “Spider-man…? What have you _done?_ ”

 


	12. My Best Friend's Keeper

> Chapter Twelve: My Best Friend’s Keeper

The funeral was an eloquent affair. There were many decorated officers there. It was a beautiful day. Peter didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be anywhere  _but_  the funeral. He’d rather be on a canoe to Antarctica than be at that funeral; but he couldn’t tell anyone why he didn’t want to be there. He stood and listened to officers give their speeches about how Captain George Stacy and how great he was. He bowed his head during the prayers and stood stoic during the bell salute. He didn’t cry the entire time. He couldn’t. He felt like it would be insensitive if he cried. This was his fault. He may not have personally killed Captain George Stacy, but he had been the cause of the death. This entire funeral was his doing; a drastic consequence of his own actions and mistakes.

Spider-man had also disappeared off the face of the planet. The entire police force was after him. Being seen around shooting victims was one thing; being accused of killing a police chief was another thing entirely. There was a city-wide manhunt for him. And it didn’t end there. Before this whole mess, he could just take off his mask and never put it back on. Now Fisk knew who he was, and he could go to the police at any given moment with his name and address. Peter Parker wasn’t safe anymore.

Nowhere was safe.

He leaned against the wall outside the church and closed his eyes tightly. He didn’t even know what a full night’s sleep meant anymore. “Peter?” He didn’t even flinch when Harry spoke. There was no reaction to give. All he could do was passively bow his head. “Are you okay?”

He flashed a forced smile. No, he wasn’t okay. Nothing would ever be okay again. But he couldn’t say that. “Yeah… Well, all things considered.” He motioned to the church. “As okay as I can be.”

Harry sighed and put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. He didn’t push and had Peter been at a better mindset, he might have questioned why Harry wasn’t pushing him to tell him more. “I talked to Gwen. She’s happy you came.”

 _I wish I hadn’t,_ _Peter_ thought, but he couldn’t voice that opinion. “I’m glad I could offer her some condolences.” Harry went to speak but paused when May pulled up. “That’s my ride, Harry. We should… do lunch or something.” He paused, knowing what he should say next. He couldn’t. “I can’t buy…”

Harry’s face fell. “Alright, Pete. Get some rest, okay?” Peter waved him off as he stepped into the car. He rested his head against the window. The drive was unbearably silent. May didn’t know how to talk to him anymore, and he didn’t know how to talk to her either… and he hated that.

“You aren’t sleeping,” May whispered after several minutes. “I hear you moving around your room.”

He couldn’t tell her that he couldn’t sleep because he knew that his life was forfeit. Fisk could come at any moment and kill him or May. He couldn’t tell her that. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t do that Peter,” she snapped. “You’re not fine. This isn’t  _fine!_  None of this is!” He clenched his fists and turned away from her. He couldn’t stomach seeing the tears in her eyes. “You’re not eating, you’re not sleeping…!”

He wanted to lash out, but he took a deep breath and steadied himself. Yelling at May would only make her more worried and upset about him. He needed to put a lid on this before she thought he was in trouble. “You’re right… I’m not fine,” he whispered. Her breath caught in her throat in a soft gasp.  _I’m Spider-man…_ What else could he say? He had told her that something was wrong. Now he had to tell her what that something was. “Aunt May… If I ever did something that got good people hurt… how could I make it right?” That was as vague as he could be, and even then, he knew that it wasn’t vague enough.

“Is this about Harry?” Peter didn’t answer. It wasn’t, but he couldn’t tell her what it was really about. “If something’s eating you, then you should talk to someone about it.” He made to protest. “It doesn’t have to be me, Peter, but holding in things like guilt is destructive.”

Her words stayed with him as the day turned to night. It was well past midnight when he pulled out his costume. It was a risk, but he needed to get out there. He needed to talk to Gwen…  _someone_. Clear his name. He wanted to go to the police, but they would shoot first and ask questions never. Fisk wasn’t lying when he said that there had only been one officer in the city that thought to trust him.

He sat on the roof of his building, swinging his feet over the edge and holding his mask in his hands. He wanted to burn it. It had caused him nothing but misery.

“That’s a lie,” he muttered, looking to the sky. It may have caused him suffering… but the people he had saved wearing that mask, using his powers… they were worth it. They were worth his own comfort… right? He put it on and jumped from the building. He had no destination in mind. If there was one thing that he loved about his powers for purely selfish reasons, it was to see the city like no one else could. No one else could swing through the city like he could. Despite the pain and misery the mask had caused him, he was still able to experience the city like this.

He landed on another building and stood, staring out at his domain. It really was beautiful.

“I get why you like it up here so much.”

Peter smiled and turned to his part time partner. He was hovering a foot over the ground. The suit seemed to have been modified. Peter didn’t comment on it. “Goblin,” he greeted. “I’m glad you haven’t turned against me.”

“I don’t believe you killed Captain Stacy,” he said as he stared out towards the city. “I think someone’s framing you.”

Peter shrugged. It wouldn’t do to get the Goblin involved in his affairs. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Healing factor,” he said with a shrug.

HE turned to Goblin, blinking. Last time they had fought with anyone, he had fumbled through it. Peter couldn’t even blame Goblin for the stuff going on. He would have gotten the information from Hammerhead regardless of Goblin’s involvement. “I didn’t know you had powers.”

“I’d be crazy to come out here at night without them,” he argued.

Peter laughed. “Sane isn’t how I would describe anyone who dresses in costume to save a bunch of strangers every night.” At least he could talk to Goblin about things he couldn’t talk to anyone else about. They didn’t know each other outside of this business and that was for the best. He had people he could talk to about Peter Parker. Goblin was someone he could talk to about Spider-man. He crouched on the edge of the building. “They think I killed him,” he said quietly. “His daughter saw me in the house. She doesn’t know that I was there to save him.”

Goblin stepped from the glider and pressed a button. It responded by settling quietly on the ground like a dog being told to sit and wait. “Have you tried telling anyone that?”

“They wouldn’t believe me. I’ve been involved with too many crimes lately. They’d just think I did it because Stacy was getting too close.” If he had come up with that hypothetical, then they would probably come up with worse. He shook his head. “I’m exhausted. I can’t go out there and help anyone because I’ve got so many people trying to kill me. It’s actually kind of funny.”

“Funny? Man, you _have_  lost your marble.”

“Well, if you can’t laugh through the pain, you’ll be consumed by it, right?” he said with a shrug. “But yeah, it’s funny.”

“You know, I can help.” He wrung his fingers. “Why is this happening to you? Who’d you piss off?”

Peter bit his lip. It wouldn’t do to tell Goblin that he had angered Fisk; though if he was smart, he’d figure it out. “Well… The issue isn’t who I pissed off, it’s what that person knows… and what he’ll use against me.”

Goblin looked down at his feet. “What does he know?”

“My name.” Saying it felt like a weight lifted off his shoulder. Now someone else knew what he was going through. His identity was to keep the people he loved safe. Spider-man was allowed to make enemies. Peter Parker wasn’t. Now Fisk knew his name and could do whatever he wanted with that information.

Goblin didn’t speak for several minutes. Peter waited for him to berate him, or tell him how screwed he was, but when he did speak, his voice was quiet. “Let’s go fight crime,” he said, getting the glider back in the air. Peter blinked.

“What?”

“Let’s go find a crime.” Without waiting, he took off. Peter watched him go. He hadn’t tried to make him tell him more.

“I guess having a partner in crime fighting isn’t that bad,” he mumbled. He jumped off the building and swung after Goblin. Back in the air, he felt invincible. Fisk, with all his power, couldn’t do this.

When they came across a crime, he felt bad that he was actually a little happy about the idea of finding someone to punch. They landed on the building looking down at the alleyway where a drug deal was going down. He clenched his fists, shaking them. Drug deals were ruining his life as they spoke. “Let’s get this one over with. Drug crimes are my least favorite crimes.”

Goblin laughed. “All yours, Spider-man.”

He jumped down into the center of the gathered criminals. “Gentlemen!” he teased, even as the men reached for their guns. “I’m sure there’s a pharmacy you can work at!” His senses shot up and he spun, catching the punch that came for his head. “Really, man? Come on! At  _least_  use a gun!” He kicked the guy away and webbed him to the ground.

Everyone froze for a moment. He knew what they were thinking. If they shot at him, they might hit one of their buddies. So, they came at him with knives. Peter laughed and smirked, dodging and kicking the attackers. He felt good about the whole ordeal. He had control over this battlefield, even if he had no control over his life at the moment.

As he downed the last man, his senses shot up to eleven and he felt a gun barrel to the back of his head. He cursed. “Good job, sir,” he said with a soft laugh. This man wasn’t about to get away with this. They both knew that. “Only a few—” He didn’t have time to finish the quip. The man was pulled away from Peter and slammed against the wall.

“Good job, Goblin!” Peter said with a smile. Goblin didn’t let the man go. “Goblin…?” he asked. His partner was holding onto the man’s throat like a pit bull with a locked jaw. The man struggled, but the grip was too strong. “H-hey! He’s had enough!”

Goblin let the man drop to the ground and Peter webbed him to the wall. Goblin stepped away, shaking his head. “Sorry…”

“You okay?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he jumped onto his glider and took off. Peter watched him go and sighed. He went to follow him but thought better of it. He liked having his space, so it was only right that he gave others the space he wanted. He’d search for Goblin tomorrow. Maybe he needed time to settle down.

 

Norman swirled the dark brown drink in the small shot glass slowly. When the door opened, he turned on the lamp on the side desk. “Son.”

Harry froze in the process of sneaking into the apartment. He was wearing what looked like thermal underwear. It was too hot for that, but not at high speeds. Not yet, anyway. Did he really think that he could get away with coming and going as he pleased? “Evening, father.”

Norman sipped the bitter liquid. “How’s your shoulder?”

Harry stammered. “It’s uh… better…”

“It was broken.”

He laughed nervously. “Y-yeah… I think the doctors exaggerated a little. It was… probably just a sprain.” His eyes darted, avoiding Norman’s gaze like any guilty party would. Teaching someone to lie was difficult when you didn’t want them to know that’s what they were being taught.

He held the drink up to his nose and sniffed it casually. “The flight suit and glider have been stolen.”

“Oh?” His mock shock was embarrassingly unconvincing. “That’s unfortunate. Do you know who did it?”

“I’ve got an idea…”

The silence and tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Harry looked around and before laughing softly. “Yeah… I’m going to bed…”

“Did you really think you could get away with it?” Norman asked, putting the glass on the table. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. He’d rather not have to deal with the fact that his son wasn’t only lying to him, he was stealing and putting his life in danger.

“What?”

“The flight suit, the glider… your shoulder. Son, I may not be around as often as you’d like, but I am not deaf and blind. I know what you’re doing out there… and  _who_  you are out there with.”

Harry’s shoulders slouched and he leaned against the wall. Clearly, he knew that this was going to be a rough conversation. “Why?” was all he could ask. He would get to the how later. He was terrified to ask Harry about the shoulder. There was no way that healed so quickly on its own.

Harry shifted his weight. “Like I said… We have all these inventions in our home, and we don’t use them to help people.”

Norman sighed deeply. When had he raised such a bleeding heart? Honestly, Harry had probably gotten it from his mother. She was a free spirit. He put the drink on the table. “Most of that tech that you are talking about is in beta stages and aren’t ready for wide distribution.” He stood. “I want you to stop this.”

Harry looked away. “Why?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

Harry scoffed. “Sure, dad. That’s what you care about.” His tone was scathing and bitter. Norman knew what he was talking about. It was hard for him to believe that he cared about Harry.

He bowed his head. Yes, it was logical for Harry to go right for the throat. He had taught his son to be ruthless; but he had usually been resistant of that teaching. He had, despite his best efforts, raised a caring and heartfelt child. “I don’t want you out there, Harry. You are going to get yourself hurt, or killed, and I won’t stand by and watch you do it.”

“Then don’t watch!” he snapped. “The only reason you care is because if I die, the Osborn legacy dies with me! All this? It’ll go to someone else when you die! Don’t you  _dare_  pretend to care about me,  _father.”_

Norman took a step towards his son, clenching his fists. This wasn’t how he wanted this to go. He had wanted to address the issue without raising voices. It wasn’t often that he and Harry spoke normally anyway. “I do care about you, Harry.”

Harry looked away, annoyed.

“Son, I love you, but this… whatever this is… I can’t condone this!” He walked towards the boy and put his hand on the shoulder that had been injured. “How did your shoulder get healed so quickly?” Harry didn’t look up at him. “Son… I need to know what you did. I  _need_  to!”

He already knew, though. They had reported one of the vials missing already. He had hoped it was just a disgruntled and angry employee, but clearly, he was mistaken. There was no other way that Harry could have healed that quickly.

Harry didn’t answer. “I understand… Would telling you to give up this crazy vigilante crusade be enough?”

“No.”

Norman sighed deeply. He knew this would be difficult. And he knew that Harry wouldn’t listen to him. “I understand. Then I won’t stop you.” If Harry wanted to be a superhero, then so be it. “But you need to stay away from Spider-man.”

Harry shook his head. “No. I did this to help him. I won’t abandon him just because you don’t like him.” He started for his bedroom and Norman watched him go. Aggression seems to be a side effect. He would have to tell the people in the lab. It annoyed him, and scared him, that Harry had gone behind his back and had done all of this. The biggest problem was the formula. That he was actually very concerned about. He’d have to keep an eye on Harry. There wasn’t a way to separate the serum from Harry’s bloodstream; yet. He started for the lab. There had to be a way to neutralize the serum.

As he stood in the elevator, he picked up his phone. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to use this phone number to call Manfredi unless it was an emergency; but this  _was_  an emergency. Manfredi picked up after several rings. “Good evening, Mr. Osborn.”

“Call your dogs off Spider-man,” Norman demanded.

Manfredi laughed. “Apologies, Norman, but Spider-man is a thorn in our side, and he must be eliminated.”

Norman suppressed a sigh. The last thing he needed was for Manfredi to think that that he was desperate. “I understand that, but I’m calling you off. We’ll handle Spider-man in a different manner. We can manage his threat level.”

“Manage? I don’t think you understand, Norman. I want that Spider crushed beneath my boot!”

Norman looked at his reflection in the mirror of the elevator. Manfredi wasn’t going to listen to him, but he couldn’t tell him why this was important. If Manfredi’s forces continued, Harry would get in their way and might get killed in the crossfire.

“If this is about your son…”

“I didn’t say that,” he snapped quickly.

“You didn’t have to. I recognize the gear this new superhero is using. If he’s not your son, then he’s someone who stole your tech… and Oscorp teach doesn’t just get stolen.”

Norman clenched his fists. “Call off your dogs or the deal’s off, Silvio.”

“Without the dirt we have on Fisk, you won’t be able to take control of his company because no one will be able to convict him.”

He shook his head. This couldn’t be happening! “I don’t care.”

Manfredi scoffed. “Don’t kid yourself, Norman. You’ll never put your son above money and power.”

“Choose your next words wisely…”

“No, I don’t think I will. Prove it to me. I won’t call off the dogs, so end our partnership now.” Norman said nothing. Manfredi was right. He  _hated_  that Manfredi was right. He needed the Maggia and their information to achieve his goals; goals that would make his and Harry’s lives better if achieved. His silence, apparently, was answer enough. “I thought so.” Manfredi hung up, leaving Norman in the silence of the elevator as it took him down.

 


	13. The Bill Comes Due

> Chapter Thirteen: The Bill Comes Due

In the weeks following the funeral, Peter had tried his best to avoid everyone in his life. May had all but given up on trying to figure out what was going on with him. The silence between them hurt worse than the yelling. He wished he could offer her some sort of comfort… but he had none to offer. He sat at the kitchen table, flipping through the mail slowly. His eyes landed on an envelope sitting under the decorative bowl. It was a bill. He reached over and pulled it out from under the bowl. Not just a bill… an eviction notice. “May…!” he called.

She walked out of the bathroom, drying her hair as she came towards the table. “What is…?” she trailed off when she noticed what he was holding. She sighed. “I didn’t want to worry you.” She sat on the other side of the table and took the notice from him. “It’ll be okay. I’m working double shifts at the hospital this week, and I’m interviewing with a waitressing job.” She smiled at him. “We’ll get through this.”

What she didn’t say is that they may not get through Peter’s problems. The money was one thing. “I… I could ask Harry,” he grumbled. She wouldn’t accept that. They had pride in their family, and it ran deep. He didn’t want to ask Harry, either, but if they were evicted, he didn’t know what they’d do.

She shook her head. He knew she’d rather work three jobs and live on the streets than take Norman Osborn’s money. Peter nodded slowly in understanding. She held no ill will towards Harry… but Norman… His stomach twisted at the thought of Norman Osborn and Fisk’s merger. He stood. “I’m going out.”

“Okay.” She didn’t even ask him where he was going or when he’d be back. Sleep was a stranger and he was coming home more worn every day.

He paused at the door. “I love you, Aunt May,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.” But her tone was tired. He walked out of the hallway and headed down the steps. The police still wanted him, and he’d turn himself in if he thought he would have a chance to defend himself. They’d make him unmask for sure, and he couldn’t do that… not now. HE ran his hands through his hair as he stepped into the alleyway where he kept his costume. Summer vacation was coming up, but he didn’t see that as any sort of escape. All it meant was that he’d have more time to be Spider-man and to be terrified as he tried helping the city while being chased by police.

Fisk had been unusually quiet. He was biding his time. Peter didn’t know why, but he hoped that the man had a plan, and that it was easy to foil. He pulled his mask over his face and rested his forehead against the wall. Who was he kidding? How could a simple kid hope to take down a crime lord who had the entire city fooled for years? “You can do this,” he whispered, nodding. He had been given these powers and he needed to use those powers.

He fired a web and got into the air. Flying through the city wasn’t nearly as fun anymore as the police force no longer looked at him as a mild annoyance. They saw him as a legit threat now. He hated that, but the only thing he could do was make sure that he didn’t cross any lines. Maybe he’d find someone on the police force who will ask questions before shooting. If he could find one person who’ll listen to him, maybe he could tell them about Fisk as well.

His senses shot up, warning him of danger. He dodged a grappling hook, throwing him off balance. He fired a web, bringing himself down on the ground. “Hello?” he called. If it had been an officer, they would have just shot him; and Fisk wouldn’t be sending an assassin this early, would he? He barely got what he wanted out of Peter. He clenched his fists as his senses warned him to duck. He did so as a foot came over his head. With a quick backflip, he put some distance between him and his attacker. The black and white-clad person stood in a ready stance a few feet from him. He didn’t recognize the person. The costume was rather Spider-themed for someone trying to attack him.  _How many superheroes are going to show up?_

The outfit resembled a dancer’s leotard with leggings and a hood. His attacker was female, at least, and her shoes on the costume were teal ballet slippers. Peter fell into a defensive stance. “Alright… before we do this… who  _are_  you?” She didn’t answer. Instead, she ran at him and attacked with a flurry of kicks and punches. He dodged and blocked. There was power behind her strikes, but nothing supernatural. Her punches felt fairly normal, if not a bit above average.

She held out her wrist and web fluid shot out. He jumped back but was a hair too slow. It grabbed his arm and she yanked, unbalancing him. In the moment he took to get back on his feet, she roundhoused him to the ground. “So… that’s how that feels,” he grumbled as he rolled away from another well-placed kick. He got on his belly and jumped to his feet. She was a normal human. He couldn’t just attack her. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?” he asked, holding up his hands. He had three groups of people gunning for him. She probably wasn’t working for the police, and Peter had already met Fisk’s assassins. That left the Maggia, but surely, they could afford someone with superpowers to take him down.

She wasn’t in the mood for talking. Instead, she came at him again. The way she moved was like a dancer mixing martial arts in her routine. She was good; he was better. The difference, however, was that she was aiming to hurt him, and he was just trying to get away. He parried one of her punches and threw her to the ground. She rolled with the impact and got back to her feet in an impressive display of agility. “Not bad.” He ran at her. “Try this!” He jumped into the air over her head and fired webbing at her fists. He made her cross her arms, and as he landed, he pulled her back and onto the ground., webbing her to the pavement. “Alright, let’s talk? First, who are you and second, why do you want me dead?”

She struggled against the webbing, but without super strength, a knife or a dissolvent, she wasn’t getting out of there. “You… took everything from me.”

Peter cocked his head. “I’m… sorry?” He blinked. “Who…?” and then it dawned on him. “Gwen Stacy?” He stumbled back away from her. “I…” he stammered, shaking his head. He pulled out the dissolvent for the webbing and released her. She scrambled away from him. “I didn’t kill your father.”  _Purposely,_ he added silently. It was his fault that Captain Stacy was dead, but he hadn’t pulled the trigger.

“Then why were you there?” she snapped.

“To save him!” he stressed. “I’m sorry I was too late…”

She took a step towards him and he took a step back. “Take off your mask,” she demanded suddenly. He stumbled another few steps back, shaking his head.

“I… I can’t…” She scoffed and turned her back to him. Clearly, she didn’t seem to think that he would take to hurting her. “I didn’t kill Captain Stacy!” he called after her. If she believed him, then she didn’t show it. “But…” He closed his eyes. Guilt was a disease and May had told him that he needed to talk to someone about it. She paused her retreat. He sighed, bracing himself for the coming blow out. “His death was my fault.”

For a moment, she didn’t react and he thought that she would run without saying anything. And then she spoke. “Who did it? I know you know.”

Peter looked at the ground and kicked it with the toe of his shoe. He couldn’t tell her. She was angry and irrational. No rational person would attack a super powered human being without any plan or even weapons. “I can’t tell you, just… understand that I’m handling it.”

She laughed. “Handled?” She took off running, leaving Peter to watch her retreat.

“Four…” he grumbled. “Four people are after me.” He sighed and got back into the air. Maybe he could figure out what to do about Fisk. He wanted something from him. He swung to Fisk’s tower and crawled to the window where he knew he’d be let in.

Fisk opened the window and Peter crawled in, keeping his back to the window. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” the big man asked. “Unless you’re here for round 2?”

He shook his head. “I’m not.” He crossed his arms. The only way that he would be out from under Fisk’s thumb was to do what was required of him. “What do you need me to do? I want to end this.”

Fisk smirked. “I knew you’d come around. I need you to take down Manfredi.”

“Take down?” Peter asked, shaking his head. “I… As in,  _kill_  him?” His tone was horrified.

“It’s the only way. Manfredi can run his operations from prison. Killing him will disrupt the Maggia long enough to give me time to move into his territories.”

“I don’t kill.”

Fisk shrugged. “You’re already wanted for murder; why not add another body to your count?”

“Because it’s not  _my_  body count!” Peter shouted. He knew that he shouldn’t be talking back to Fisk, but he couldn’t stand by and watch this happen. He couldn’t help Fisk get more power in the city.

Fisk didn’t seem bothered by his outburst. Instead, he seemed mildly amused. “I suppose Captain Stacy wasn’t enough for you. Do I have to go after your aunt, Peter?”

Peter clenched his fists. “Leave her out of this.”

“Then do as I say, and no one you love will get hurt.” Peter looked to the ground with a soft groan. “Manfredi must die.” He turned to the window and went to fire a web. “Do I make myself clear, Peter Parker? Manfredi—”

“Will die,” he grumbled and then jumped from the building. He couldn’t kill the man. Even if he wanted to, he imagined that getting close enough to one of the heads of the Maggia was nigh impossible.

He landed on a rooftop and couched on the edge of the building. What a mess. “The only options I have are to kill Fisk or…” he paused and shook his head. “Or take him down.” And by taking him down, he meant toppling a businessman. That wasn’t going to work. He couldn’t imagine taking Osborn down, so how could he even begin to take on Fisk?

He turned as he heard the glider coming. Goblin. That was another problem that Peter was trying to figure out. He was getting better at fighting, but he was also getting more and more violent. “Hey,” he greeted.

“You look like you’re about to jump off this building,” Goblin said.

Peter laughed. “I’m considering it,” he admitted, even though he wasn’t. “The fall wouldn’t kill me, anyway. It’d just hurt like hell.”

Goblin shook his head and sat down beside him. “You wanna talk about it?”

One thing Peter liked about being to able to talk to Goblin was that he finally had someone to discuss the trials of being Spider-man. Until he had met the other boy, he had no one to talk about these things with. “Let’s just say my tormentor wants me to kill someone for him, and if I don’t, he’ll kill the people in my life.” He put his head in his hands. “This is why I wear the mask… I’m allowed to have enemies. I’m fine with that. I chose to put my life on the line… but the people that I love… they didn’t choose that. I’d never be able to live with myself if they got hurt because I decided I needed to wear this mask.”

Goblin sighed and looked out into the city. He was a man of few words most of the time, Peter was learning. He was more interested in getting Peter to talk. “Why  _do_  you do this?” he asked.

Peter laughed quietly. “It’s… complicated,” he muttered. This wasn’t something that he had told anyone. He had bottled it inside and it had been the driving force behind Spider-man. Now he had Captain Stacy’s death on his hands as well. “I didn’t step up to the plate once… I had the power to do it, and I didn’t. I let some guy pass me, and he went on to kill someone that I loved… and it was  _my_ fault.” He ran his hands over his mask. “This is all my fault.”

“Maybe.”

Peter was taken aback. Usually people wanted him to see that everything wasn’t his fault. He was used to being told that he couldn’t hold the whole word on his shoulder. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“You want me to tell you that it’s not your fault? That there’s no way you can control the actions of other people?” He paused and fiddled with something on his glove. “Does me saying that make you feel better?”

Did it? How many times had he read advice on dealing with guilt? How many people had told him that he couldn’t blame himself for every bad thing that happened? And did it ever really help? “No, it doesn’t,” he admitted.

“Then sure, it’s your fault, but you can’t change the past. You can’t change what happened to that person you loved, and you can’t change what happened to Captain Stacy, but you  _can_  save the people who are still alive, and you don’t have to do it alone.” Peter stared out at the city.  _His_  city. He had made this place his responsibility to make up for the sins of his past. “It’s Fisk, isn’t it?” Peter nodded. Goblin was smart. He’d figure it out eventually. “And he knows who you are, and now your family is in danger?”

“That about sums it up.” He decided not to tell Goblin that Gwen Stacy was also gunning for his head. That was something he had to handle on his own without Goblin’s help. 

“Sounds rough.” He stood and got on his glider. “You should get some sleep, Spidey. You sound like you’re two seconds away from passing out.” 

He nodded slowly. That was about right. Sleep was a luxury. He stood beside Goblin. “Don’t do anything stupid, alright? It’s not worth it.”

Goblin looked at him and Peter wished that he could see his face. This was how everyone else felt when they talked to him. They only saw a mask and nothing else. Did it help them demonize him when all they saw was a mask? “It _is_ worth it.” 

Peter laughed softly and watched the young man fly off into the night. He wanted to know that guy’s motivation, but he was always more interested in Peter than talking about himself. He looked up at the sky and sighed. He needed to handle Gwen before she got herself killed looking for him. He jumped off the building and began swinging. He remembered her saying something about living with her uncle now, and he had walked her home once since the attack. 

He landed on the fire escape of the apartment building and started crawling up. It was a rundown building; very different from the home that she had been forced to leave. His stomach twisted into knots as that thought entered his mind. She deserved so much better. He pulled himself up on the escape outside her window and crouched, watching her move inside the room. He was aware of how creepy it was, but he didn’t want to do this. Yes, George Stacy’s death was indirectly his fault, and if Gwen got hurt trying to avenge her father, that was his fault too. 

She paced the room in the same leotard costume. Without the hood and mask, it looked like a normal dancer’s outfit. She looked good in it. When she had her back turned, he crawled through the window. This was a mistake. He new that. This was not his best idea, but what else could he do. 

“Gwen?” he whispered.

She gasped and spun around. When she saw who it was, she backed away to the computer desk in the room. 

“Don’t scream…” _Sure, Pete, that doesn’t sound threatening at all,_ he berated, keeping his head down. He held out his hands to show that he wasn’t there to fight. She fumbled with the drawer in the desk and reached inside, pulling out a handgun. “W-woah!” He took several steps back as she aimed the weapon at him. _Now_ this was a mistake. “You know I can dodge bullets, right?” In response, she walked towards him. He stepped back until he was against the wall. When she was almost pointblank, she stopped. “I just want to talk.”

“Then start talking,” she snapped. 

“The man who killed Captain Stacy was doing it to get back at me,” Peter confessed. He wanted full transparency with her. “But I didn’t kill him. I didn’t know he’d go after your father.”

“But it’s still your fault.” 

“It is,” he said with a nod. That much was true. She stepped up to him and put the barrel of the gun on his chest. She had no regard for her own safety. No one in their right mind would be comfortable walking up to a superhero, even with a gun. His Spider sense was going crazy, but he ignored it. He needed her to know that he wasn’t her enemy. He cared what happened to her. That was why he was there. If she spent her time running around the city at night, someone would think that he had another ally and they would kill her. “And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t bring him back!”

“I know it won’t! But neither will killing me!” he argued. “Look… I’ve been there. I’ve wanted to kill people who wronged me. I stood face to face with the man who murdered someone close to me, and it’s hard to not use the powers you have to end their lives.” She pushed the weapon further into his chest. He didn’t even wince. “It won’t fix you.” He reached up, but he wasn’t reaching for the gun. This was a mistake. He knew that. He grabbed his mask and yanked it off. “Gwen… killing me won’t make the hurt go away…”


	14. Unwell

> Chapter Fourteen: Unwell

The gun clattered to the floor and Gwen took a step back away from him. “Peter…?” she managed to mutter. He nodded slowly. This was a bad idea, but everything that he had done recently were bad ideas. This seemed like the least bad idea that he had so far.

“Gwen—”

“What the hell, Peter?” she shouted. Peter flinched as her voice rose. If her uncle was home, she’d draw him in here and either situation, masked or unmasked, would be bad.

He held up his hands. “Gwen, please… _please_ calm down.”

“Calm down?” she threw her hands up, exasperated. He shot a web and pulled the gun out of her immediate reach. He didn’t dare take it just in case she thought he wanted her dead. Hopefully she didn’t know that he didn’t need a gun to kill her. “You… you’re Spider-man!”

“Yes… I am,” he said with a slow nod. “And I didn’t kill your father. The man who ordered his death was mad at me. Your dad died because he was the only police officer who would talk to me… and I’m sorry for that. I screwed up.” His voice cracked slightly and he tried to compose himself before continuing. He didn’t have the right to cry in front of Gwen. “I screwed up big time, and people died because of it. People were _hurt._ I can’t change that; but I _have_ to take down the man who killed your dad.”

She took a few steps back and then turned her back to him. He took that as a good sign. She was comfortable enough with him to turn around and expose her back to him. If she thought he would kill her, she wouldn’t be taking the chance. “Who is it?” she asked, putting her hands on the desk and leaning forward on her hands.

He shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you went after a superhero with superhuman strength with the intention of killing me,” Peter said. He ruffled his hair. It was weird to be out of his mask with the suit on. He clenched the mask in his fists. “IF I told you, you’d do something stupid.”

She turned back to him and crossed her arms. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

He elected not to answer that. He didn’t think she was an idiot, but he thought that her grief was driving her to do stupid things. He had been there. He knew what it was to have his life be thrown into chaos. The difference was that he had the powers to fight the other powers that be. She didn’t. “No, Gwen… I don’t think that.”

She waved her hand, cutting him off. “You can’t go to the police because they are all gunning for your head… but I _can_. And I can vouch for you. There’s an officer there who might be willing to hear your side of the story.”

Peter cocked his head. “You’re willing to do that? You just had a gun to my chest five minutes ago.”

“I thought Spider-man killed my dad… but I know Peter Parker wouldn’t… _couldn’t_ do that.” She ran her hands through her hair, tugging at the blonde locks. “I should have seen this, you know… It makes too much sense. You were always gone, and you put Flash in the hospital.”

Peter flinched. He had almost forgotten about that encounter. “How is he?”

She shrugged. “He’s fine. He’ll be back to bully you before long, I’m sure.” Peter couldn’t find it in himself to be upset about that. He was happy that Flash was doing well. “So… Who is it?”

He closed his eyes, debating. If he told her, she might be smart and not go after Fisk. If he didn’t tell her, she would never forgive him. He needed allies in this. Stacy had been his best option for taking down Fisk. He needed someone to trust him. “Wilson Fisk,” he muttered, praying to the karma gods that thought he was a cosmic plaything that this wasn’t another mark in his long list of mistakes.

She blinked and looked away from him. “That’s… that’s a powerful enemy,” she whispered.

“Yeah…”

She released a long breath and he braced himself for the lecture. She didn’t know everything, but she was smart enough to know that angering Fisk had been the dumbest thing he had ever done. The lecture didn’t come, however. Instead, she walked towards him. “I will get Officer Watanabe to agree to meet you,” she promised. “And you need to tell her everything.”

“Everything?” He pointed to his unmasked face. That wasn’t going to work.

“Okay, maybe not that.”

“The more people who know, the more dangerous this gets,” Peter muttered. “If Fisk thinks he’s being closed in on, he’ll come after me and Aunt May.”

Gwen bit her lip. “Fisk knows?” He nodded. “Then why don’t you tell May? If she knew, she could protect herself? Wouldn’t it be better if she knew she was in danger?”

He looked away. “If she knew, she would never be able to live with herself. She would worry every time I stepped out of that house and she would never sleep again. Neither one of us is over Ben’s death, and my being Spider-man would ruin whatever peace she may have found since he died.”

Gwen sighed. “Pete…”

“I know,” he muttered. He should tell her; because if he didn’t, she was going to die. “I… I like the suit, by the way…”

She smiled. It was strained and he was sure that it was because she was giving him a pity smile. He didn’t want a pity smile, but he’d take it. “Thanks…”

He looked down at the ground and kicked a shirt there. “We… should get moving.”

“Right.” She grabbed a light jacket and threw it over her spandex suit. Peter didn’t say anything about her going out in it. All he wanted to know was that she was safe. The more people he brought into the fold, the more dangerous this was going to get. He just prayed that it wouldn’t get any worse…

 

Gwen said nothing as she walked down the street towards the police precinct. Peter was on the rooftops, keeping her in view. It was late at night, and she knew how dangerous it was to be out at this time. Her dad had made sure she was proficient at self-defense… but going after Spider-man had been a stupid thing to do. She was lucky that Peter was Spider-man, because had he been anyone else, she probably would have been killed.

_Grief blinds you,_ she thought with a deep sigh. She have been told that her whole life, but this was the first time that she had seen it in action. She looked down at her hands and the makeshift shooters that she had made to replicate Spider-man’s powers. Maybe when this was all over, she could talk to Peter and get him to show her some of the ropes. “You’re being ridiculous, Gwen,” she muttered under her breath. Peter was right. He had powers and she didn’t. Doing what he did was suicide.

When the police station came into view, she motioned him to stay back. There was no danger to be had in the building. She stepped inside and the usual hush fell over the officers there when they spotted her. They pitied her for losing her father. She wasn’t Captain Stacy’s daughter anymore; she was just another victim of an act of violence in this forsaken city. “I need to speak to Watanabe,” she said.

Henderson looked up from where he was sitting. “She’s in her office.”

She nodded her thanks and walked to where the young detective was situated. “Ma’am.”

She looked up and smiled once she recognized Gwen. “Hey… How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she answered with a soft smile. That was a lie, but she didn’t want this to be about her. “I… was hoping I could talk to you about dad’s death.”

Watanabe blinked and then nodded slowly. “Y-yeah, sure. Shut the door.” Gwen did as she was told and pulled the door shut behind her. She sat across the desk from the woman. “What’s up.”

“I…” Now that she was in the room, her story seemed ridiculous. _Don’t act nervous. She’ll think that Spider-man threatened me._ “Spider-man didn’t kill dad.”

Watanabe was speechless for a moment. She stammered for a moment. “Gwen… I know that this is hard to process, but you were the one who named him as the prime suspect when this happened.”

“I know, and I know now that I was wrong.” She paused and took a deep breath, bracing herself for the words she needed to say. “I spoke to him… and he needs you to talk to him.” She continued, trying to get this out before Watanabe had a chance to tell her how stupid she had been. “You’re the only one in this precinct that wouldn’t shoot Spider-man without giving him his day in court. You pushed my dad to give him a chance to turn himself in. You’re the only one here he can trust… Who _I_ can trust. Please.”

The woman sighed deeply and took a moment to compose her thoughts. “You don’t think he’s lying?”

“I know he’s not.” She couldn’t explain how she knew. She didn’t want to betray Peter by even telling this woman that she knew his identity.

Watanabe looked down at her desk and drummed her fingers on the computer. “Okay,” she said after a few minutes. “I will talk to him; but I don’t want you anywhere near this.”

“But—”

She held up her hand. “’But’ nothing. If Spider-man isn’t as trustworthy as you think, I don’t want you getting hurt. If he _is,_ then you will still be in danger. Where does he want to meet?”

“Central Park, at the amphitheater. In one hour.”

 

Peter didn’t know if Gwen had succeeded. He wasn’t going to stick around too much longer, but he needed to give her plenty of time before bailing.

His senses whispered and he turned as a police officer walked down the steps towards the stage where he was standing. He tugged on his mask just to make sure it was still there. “Officer Watanabe,” he greeted. She paused several feet away from the stage. “I’m glad you came.” She at least didn’t have her weapon drawn and ready to shoot him, but it was still in her holster. This could easily go south quickly.

“You have two minutes before I start arresting,” she answered. “Talk. Who killed Captain George Stacy?”

“Before I tell you, you have to promise me that taking down this person will be done as discreetly as possible,” Peter said. He couldn’t take any chances. If Fisk felt threatened, he would go after May; and Peter would never be able to live with himself if that happened.

“We will proceed as we see fit. I need a name.”

He looked away. “Promise me.”

“Are there people in danger?”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “And I can’t afford to put them in any more danger than they already are.”

She sighed. “I will do everything in my power to make sure these people are protected… but you need to give me a name.”

“Wilson Fisk,” Peter said. It came out like vomit. He didn’t want to name the man, but he knew that this was his only hope. Killing Manfredi wasn’t an option and losing May wasn’t one either. The only option was exposing Fisk for the lying, murdering drug peddler he was. Before she could tell him that he was insane for taking on Fisk, he kept talking. “The merger between Fisk Industries and Oscorp is a front that he’s trying to protect at all costs. He’s blackmailed me, and when I didn’t give into his orders, he murdered the only police officer who would give me the time of day.”

“And you dragged me into this.”

“The people I love are in danger,” Peter insisted. “He knows who I am, and he will kill my family, and he will make me watch. I was too late to save Captain Stacy, and I don’t want to be too late to save the other people he’s threatening. I want to make things right, and the only way I can do this is with your help. I tried to do this on my own, and someone died for it. Help me make sure no one else suffers for my mistakes.”

Watanabe shook her head slowly. “Fisk isn’t an easy target, Spider-man,” she said carefully. “Even if he is the man you say he is, we’d have to prove it.”

“I can help with that; but he can’t know that I went to the police.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “You’re starting a war.”

“There’s already a war,” Peter said quietly. “You just haven’t known about it.”

“If what you say is true, then you need to somehow prove that Fisk is as dirty as you say. I can’t move on this without probable cause. There needs to be something to set this off.”

Peter closed his eyes. It wasn’t as simple as just telling them what he knew, then. “I’ll get some proof of some crime. That’ll get your foot in the door, won’t it?” She nodded. “Thank you, officer.”

He aimed to fire away. “Spider-man!” He paused. “If you’re wrong about this, you know I won’t rest until I have you in custody. Captain Stacy gave me more opportunities than I probably deserved. He was a good man, and I will do anything to make sure the person responsible for his death faces justice.”

“I understand,” and then he was gone. Now that the police were in on it, he still didn’t feel like he could rest easy. Fisk wasn’t going to go down easily.

Before he could even reflect on the conversation, his senses went up and he shot a web to quickly change direction. The bullet whizzed past his ear, hissing as it went. He landed on a wall and gripped the glass before running up. More bullets went flying as he ran. He tried to pinpoint where the gunfire was coming from, but he couldn’t quite get a lock. He jumped onto the roof and crouched behind cover. “Come _on,_ ” he snapped. Just once he’d like to go a day without his life being threatened!

“Fisk shouldn’t be going after me yet.”

Another bullet came for him and he jumped away, crouching low. Now he could see the sniper. He could run, but that would mean getting gunned down another day. With a grunt, he jumped from his hiding spot and ran towards the sniper. She tried to reload before he got there, but he managed to shoot a web and pull the gun from her grip before she could let loose another bullet.

Before Peter could attack further, she reached behind her and pulled out a bo staff with an electric tip. She came after him with such force and speed that it caught him off guard. He dodged and ducked away from the attacker. This wasn’t one of Fisk’s assassins. He fired webs, but the woman was quick and experienced, dodging the webbing with skill.

“You won’t get finish this,” she said. Her accent was thick and he didn’t recognize it. He threw punches that were blocked and parried. She was a better fighter than he was, and that scared him. Her bo staff hit him in the arm and the electricity coursed through his veins. He gasped and stumbled back, but she didn’t give him an inch. She swung the weapon, hitting him hard across the face. Her attacks came quickly and she shoved the end of her staff into his chest.

He screamed and dropped to his knees as his muscles twitched and spasmed. “Pity,” she said. “I was expecting more from the great Spider-man.” She pulled out another gun. He couldn’t move. His muscles weren’t responding, and the ones that were responding were in so much pain that he couldn’t move them. “I will let my boss know how easy it was to kill you.”

Peter closed his eyes and waited for the gunshot to end it. It never came. Instead, he heard the familiar sound of Goblin’s glider and a shout from the woman. Peter opened his eyes to see his green-clad friend jump from his device and kick her hard in the head. He had the advantage. She hadn’t been expecting Spider-man to have help. Peter could only watch as Goblin took advantage of the element of surprise. His blows were harsh and unleashed; a stark contrast to her own fighting style.

When had Goblin learned to fight? As he watched, he realized that Goblin wasn’t fighting with any sort of subtility. His attacks were hard and powerful, but they lacked polish. He wasn’t aiming and was merely getting in lucky blows as she dodged and went after him. Peter tried to stand, but one leg was still unwilling to move. He managed to get onto his feet, stumbling forward. She was going to kill him. The longer this fight went on, the worse it would get.

He fired a web, sticking her foot to the ground. She spun to look at him when she realized what he had done. While she was distracted, Goblin ripped the bo staff from her hands and spun it around, putting the electric end close to her throat. He upped the voltage. “Alright,” she snapped, holding her hands up. “I know when I’ve been beaten.”

“Don’t enter fights you can’t win,” Goblin said. Peter flinched. His voice was a deep, vicious growl. “Tell your boss to leave Spider-man alone.”

She laughed. “I don’t take orders from the likes of children!”

He pushed the staff until the electricity kissed her flesh. “Then you will die here.”

Peter stepped forward. “H-hey… It’s okay, Goblin. We won. Let’s just… put the weapon down and then we can bring her in for questioning.”

“I started this to protect you,” Goblin snapped. Peter blinked. What? “This whole thing was to protect you…! And I’ve done a lousy job of it! The people you care about are still in danger! _You’re_ still in danger!”

Peter took a few steps forward. “It’s okay,” he tried to assure the other hero. “You’ve done enough. You saved my life, Goblin, and I thank you for that. Please… put the weapon down.”

“Who do you work for?” Goblin shouted, ignoring Peter’s pleas.

“I would rather die.”

He pushed the weapon further. It grazed her skin and she flinched. Peter prepared to tackle Goblin, but one wrong move would kill her. “Goblin… If you do this…”

“Then I will have fulfilled what I came here to do, Peter…” and then he plunged the weapon into her throat. She spasmed before she fell limp onto the rooftop; unmoving with her eyes staring right at Peter as he could only look at Goblin, dumbfounded.


	15. Let Me In

> Chapter Fifteen: Let Me In

Peter stared dumbfounded at the corpse on the ground. He didn’t feel like he was in danger with Goblin, but he didn’t know what to do. The young man had started this game with enthusiasm. He had just wanted to be helpful; but Peter had watched as he got a little too excited and overzealous with their missions. He hadn’t dreamed that his partner in crime fighting would actually be a killer.

“What… have you… done…?” he breathed through his shaking lips.

Goblin discarded the bo staff next to the body. “I saved your life.”

“You  _killed_  her!” Peter shouted

“It was self defense.”

“It was cold blood!” He took several steps back from Goblin. What was worse was that this kid knew his name, too. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He couldn’t be here when the body was found… but he had to turn the Goblin in as well. He was a murderer.  _But if you turn him in, he might reveal your name to the police…_ Everything was falling apart at the seams and he couldn’t stop it.

“I did it for you,” Goblin said. He sounded so confused… like he couldn’t understand why Peter was upset.

Peter nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. Right now, he didn’t need any more enemies. “You… you’re right…” he grumbled, staring down at the body. “I just… I was shocked… Thank you.” He pushed the words out like he was pulling teeth. He didn’t want to thank Goblin for killing someone, but he also didn’t want to lose one of his only allies. “I… I need to go…” He turned and started for the edge of the building but stopped before jumping. “How do you know who I am?” he asked quietly.

“I… I figured it out,” Goblin said. “I promise… your secret’s safe with me. I didn’t want to tell you that I knew because you’ve gone through a lot of privacy issues lately. I thought it might scare you off.”

He wasn’t wrong, but Peter didn’t want to set him off. “It’s fine,” he grumbled. He was getting sick of that word. None of this was fine. None of this would ever  _be_  fine. He sighed, decided that he needed to try and talk to Goblin. He had spent so much time telling the boy about himself that he hadn’t taken the time to get to know him. Maybe he just needed a mentor to help him tell right from wrong. He turned back to Goblin. “So… You said you did this for me… but that can’t be the only reason. Most people don’t just look at a young superhero and decide that they want to help them.”

Goblin nodded slowly. Peter wished that he could see his face, and then he mused that this must be what it was like for others to talk to him. “It wasn’t just that,” he admitted. “Not long ago, I was involved in a tragic event and I felt utterly helpless. I couldn’t do anything.” He looked at his hands. “I watched my best friend bleed out while I could do nothing. I wanted to do this because I never wanted to feel that helpless again.”

Peter nodded in understanding. It was a noble enough cause, but he couldn’t condone killing. “I appreciate you,” he whispered. “And I’m sorry about your friend.” He shrugged. “But I don’t want you ending lives for me.”

“I understand…”

Peter wasn’t sure he believed that Goblin understood. He seemed to think that no matter what, he had to do everything in his power to protect Peter. “Goblin don’t do anything stupid. Please.” He hoped his pleading wasn’t falling on deaf ears.

Goblin looked at Peter and he felt a smile from the young man. It was… unsettling.

 

“Your son killed one of my assassins,” Manfredi snapped as he walked into Norman’s office. Norman held back a smile. Now the old man wanted his attention. Harry killing anyone was concerning, but he kept his face as neutral as possible.

“That is unfortunate,” Norman said. Now he was holding cards. Manfredi was on  _his_  turf now. “But I would imagine that losing people is part of your job. I told you to leave Spider-man alone, and you went for him anyway and this is what happens. I’m sorry you lost your assassin, but that’s how this game is played, isn’t it?”

Manfredi shook his head with a laugh. “You don’t get it, Osborn. Your son has murdered one of my people. No one, and I mean  _no one_  kills my people and gets away with it.”

Norman stood from his desk. He wouldn’t let anyone threaten his family. “You leave Harry alone. I told you to call off your dogs. It’s not his fault that one of your dogs died in a fight.”

“If I let that brat of yours get away with this, then my reputation is at risk.” He started towards Norman’s desk. He hated the mobster’s confidence. All Norman had to do was reach down and pull his concealed firearm and Manfredi’s whole legacy died with him. But he knew that Norman wouldn’t do it. He may be able to kill Manfredi, but the entirety of the Osborn name would collapse in a single evening if he did. Manfredi had the power in this room; and that was all that mattered. “And you know how important my reputation is… don’t you?”

“If you touch my son, I will not only ruin your name, I will wipe your legacy from the history books.”

Manfredi didn’t seem concerned with the threat. “We will see, Norman.” He turned his back to the desk to start for the door and Norman reached for the gun. If he ended this now, maybe Harry could be safe. They’d come after him.  _Then they’d come after Harry. They’d kill him and they would make you watch._

His hand hovered over the gun strapped to the underside of the desk. He sighed, relenting. He had nothing to threaten Manfredi with. His death would be nothing but a mild inconvenience to the Maggia. Manfredi stopped short of opening the door and he turned back to Norman. “You want to make this right? You want your son to live, then you   bring me Spider-man’s head.”

Norman scoffed. “Do you think I have assassins working for me?” he asked, shaking his head.

Manfredi shrugged. “I don’t know what kinds of people you employ, Osborn, but if this means so much to you, you’ll think of something.”

He clenched his fists. “You aren’t in charge here, Silvio,” he said through clenched teeth. “You’re only still alive because I deem you necessary to my plans.”

Manfredi didn’t seem bothered. He locked eyes with Norman, silently daring him to take a shot; to end this little dance of theirs. Norman wanted to. He wanted to end Manfredi’s life despite the cost. He’d rather die than be belittled in his own home. If he did it, however, Harry would suffer, and the company would collapse. The Osborn name would be a disgrace. “Then pull the trigger, Norman. Pull it and put an end to this game.”

Norman clenched his fists hard enough to dig his nails into the flesh on his palm. “Have the files ready by the end of the month, and I’ll have Spider-man’s head on a silver platter.”

Manfredi laughed, knowing he had won. _This round, you obsolete fool… this_   _round._

The next day, Norman was standing in the lobby of Fisk Tower, straightening a red tie. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Harry; and he didn’t want to talk to his son anyway. Harry was apparently friends with Spider-man, and he wouldn’t approve of what Norman was about to do. That didn’t matter. All that mattered was keeping Harry out of the crosshairs and sealing with deal with Fisk and the Maggia. Going to Fisk now would jeopardize things. The more they deviated from the original plan, the more likely Fisk was to go digging into why Norman wanted this in the first place.

He looked up as Fisk’s young secretary walked towards him. “Mr. Osborn,” she greeted. Though he knew he wasn’t supposed to, he could tell that she was deaf. Her accent was good for someone who couldn’t hear, but it was obvious to anyone paying close enough attention. “Mr. Fisk was a bit taken aback that you wanted this meeting.”

“I hope I haven’t caused him any inconvenience,” Norman said.

“None at all.” She flashed him a smile and led him to the elevator and then to Fisk’s office. He felt more in power here than he had with Manfredi. Fisk was an interesting sort. He was complicated. He believed in a legit business practice and held onto the belief that there could be no crime without order and lawfulness. Manfredi was a wildcard. Organized crime had it’s own fair share of balancing order and chaos; but the way Manfredi wielded it was more chaotic than Fisk. Fisk had a hairpin trigger, but he avoided killing unless it was needed. Manfredi could snap at any moment and kill everyone in the room without batting an eye.

The worst part was that he could get away with it, too.

Fisk didn’t stand when Norman entered his office. He lifted his head and rolled back his shoulders as he walked forward into the office. “To what do I owe this visit?” Fisk asked him. “You were rather vague with my employees, but they said it sounded urgent.”

He stopped at the right length away. Now was the time for him to play his own games. Dealing with Manfredi was a dance; let Manfredi lead and try your best to keep up. Dealing with Fisk was a ritual. Everything had to be in the proper place with proper timing. Stepping out of line was a sign of aggression. “It is urgent,” he assured the man. “I believe you know our Friendly Neighborhood Spider-man.”

Fisk’s placid expression faltered a bit, but he regained his composure before Norman could even confirm what he had scene. “I know of   him. What about it?”

Norman sighed. This had to be done delicately. He hadn’t come to Fisk before for anything illegal and he and the other businessman had kept up appearances that nothing illegal was going on between them. “He is a nuisance… but, he is becoming a problem.”

Fisk interlaced his large fingers and rested his chin on his hands. “A problem? What kind of problem, Norman?”

“He’s jeopardizing our entire operation,” he insisted. That was a lie. Spider-man was only jeopardizing Norman’s side of their operation. Fisk, as far as he knew, didn’t need to kill Spider-man.

“How so?”

His measured tone wasn’t lost on Norman. Maybe he had more stakes in this then Norman had realized. Whatever the reason, he needed to come up with a reason to get Fisk willing to send assassins after a superhero. “He’s gone to the police,” Norman said.

Fisk’s eyes widened slightly. There was definitely more meaning than Norman had been aware of. He hated that. He hated that he didn’t know everything. He was the man who was supposed to have every detailed figured out. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Norman said, though he didn’t have any proof. “He needs to be taken out.”

Fisk stood from his desk and stared hard at Norman. He didn’t even flinch at the man’s angry glare. All he could do was look up at the man and take his challenging glare. “I can’t send assassins after someone without proof.”

“You could wait for proof, but by that time, Spider-man may have gathered the evidence that the police need. He needs to die.”

Fisk cursed under his breath and shook his head. “Very well. We will kill the Spider.”

“We?”

Fisk smirked. “You’ll never believe what I know about our little mutual friend.”

 

Peter walked into the house. He didn’t know if he was late, or early, or what day it even was anymore. He _hoped_ it was Saturday and he could get some sleep before school started up. As he turned on a light, he noticed that Aunt May was sitting in the living room with someone. He cocked his head and then flinched when Norman Osborn turned to look at him. “Mr. Osborn,” he stammered. He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. Had something happened to Harry?

Norman stood from the couch with a smile. “Peter!” he greeted with a loud, boisterous tone. Peter took the offered hand and looked to May for some sort of explanation. She shrugged. “How are you, son?”

“Good,” Peter asked uncertainly. He didn’t know what was going on. Norman didn’t seem to be in a hurry or upset about anything. He was smiling and his handshake was strong.  
“Is… something wrong?” he asked, cocking his head.

“Actually…” he trailed off and turned to May. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to borrow Peter for a bit.” He turned back to Peter. “With your finals coming up, Harry needs some help studying, and you know him; he’s too proud to call you and ask for help.” His smiled faltered a little. Peter’s stomach dropped and felt cold. “It’s a terrible pride that runs in our family.”

It wasn’t the first time Osborn had sent a limo to pick Peter up to help Harry with school. This was the first time that he had done it personally. He nodded. “Sure…” he said and then turned to May, silently praying her to tell Norman that he was needed for something else. His Spider-senses weren’t going off, but _something_ was off. He tried to tell himself that he was being ridiculous. He had known the Osborns for years. Norman was probably just worried about Harry’s grades more than usual. Peter had noticed that Harry seemed to be slipping more lately in class.

May smiled, seemingly unbothered by the bad feeling that plagued Peter. As Norman started talking to May about Harry, Peter went to his bedroom to grab his bookbag. He shook his head, trying to convince his mind that he was just being paranoid. There was no reason for him to fear. Norman may not be the best father in existence, but he was a decent man. _Who works with Fisk,_ he thought. He banished the idea as he stuffed his suit into his backpack; just in case.

That finished, he slung to pack over his shoulder and walked out. “I’m ready, Mr. Osborn,” he said with a forced smile.

Norman’s face was serious as he looked down at May on the couch. “I truly am sorry, Mrs. Parker,” he said. There was something in his voice that gave Peter pause. “I know you get so little time with him.”

“Pish, posh,” May said, waving them out the door. “You keep him as long as Harry needs.”

He smiled. “Thank you.” He motioned Peter to follow and he did without saying anything to May. He waved as he shut the door and followed Norman down the stairs and into the waiting limo. It always felt weird whenever the Osborns picked him up in the limo. He wished that they would opt for a worse car. It always caught the attention of the people in the neighborhood. Today, though, no one was out there. No one was looking and gawking at the car.

He slipped inside the car and Norman came in after him. “Home, sir?” the driver asked.

“Yes.” He reached up and closed the window separating them from the driver. “Water, Peter?”

“Sure,” he muttered, trying not to be impolite. It wasn’t often that he was in the car alone with Norman. Many times he had sat back there with both Harry and his father and had listened to many different arguments that he had felt that he shouldn’t have heard. Norman handed him a glass of chilled water and Peter sloshed it around absently, avoiding eye contact. “So… what subject is Harry struggling with?”

“Math and science,” Norman said with a smile. “Despite our best efforts, he’s still struggling with those.”

Peter laughed softly as he sipped the water. “Yeah,” he grumbled. That made sense. Harry was smart, but sometimes he needed help. He took a longer swig to keep from speaking.

Norman took Peter’s silence as permission to speak. “You’ve been a great friend to Harry, Peter,” he said. His tone was somewhat regretful. “And your Aunt is a wonderful woman. Both her and your uncle Ben did an amazing job raising you.”

“Thanks…?” Peter said uncertainly. Norman was being uncharacteristically kind and nostalgic. “Are you sure everything is okay?” He blinked in shook his head. It was buzzing.

“Everything is fine,” he said, watching Peter carefully. “I really appreciate how good you were to Harry…”

“Were?” Peter asked. _Now_ he felt like something was very wrong. He shook his head harder, trying to clear it. The back of his head was pulsing, and it was getting worse. “Mr. Osborn… I’d like to get out.” His stomach churned. The remaining water spilled on the ground when his hand was no longer able to hold the glass. He lurched forward.

“I wanted to keep you safe for his sake,” Norman continued as if Peter wasn’t seemingly having a heart attack in front of him. “Imagine my surprise that the person who keeps throwing a wrench in my company is the same kid who used to eat dinner at my house and spend all-night movie marathons in my living room.”

Peter fell back on the back of the seat, slumping down. It had to have been the drink. He couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs and his vision was getting blurry on the edges. “Mr. Osborn…” he begged softly.

“I truly am sorry, Peter… you don’t deserve this. Harry doesn’t deserve it and your aunt has suffered enough.” Peter closed his eyes as his body went limp, giving into the poison coursing through his veins. “It’s a shame… I always liked you, Peter.”


	16. Faded

> Chapter Sixteen: Faded

When the car pulled up at the back of Oscorp, Norman stepped out. They had already taken care of most of the prep. The story would be simple and they had already worked with the cameras to the building. The plan, however, was to kill Peter and dispose of the body without anyone ever knowing. It was messy and he didn’t want to have any part of it. Peter was a good boy. The Parkers were good people and they didn’t deserve the barrage of bad news that they had been getting in the recent year or so. He had hoped not to contribute to their suffering, but he was taking May’s boy from her. It wasn’t right… but he didn’t have a choice.

His driver stepped out of the car. “I will have this one destroyed,” he said. Destroying the limo wasn’t part of the plan, but Peter had dropped the poison drink in the car and now there was evidence. They would put his hair and fingerprints in the identical car. It was a mess. A damned mess. “What should I do with the child, sir?”

They needed to kill him and get rid of the evidence. May knew that he was the last person who saw Peter alive. The police would be at his doorstep within 48 hours. They should be there if they were doing their job. But… it would be a crying shame to get rid of this child with his powers. There was so much that could be done. Peter didn’t have to die in vain. He could be used for science. “Bring him inside and downstairs. Make sure no one sees him. I don’t want anyone down there to know this boy’s identity.” He reached into Peter’s backpack and pulled out the Spider-man mask. “I will deal with the police when they come.”

And come they did. It was the next morning when he got the call that there were officers waiting for him in the lobby. “Harry?” Norman called. The boy poked his head out of his bedroom without saying a word. “Come with me, will you?” It was Sunday and they had a lot to do. This would break Harry, but Norman had done it for him. Harry said nothing as they stepped into the elevator and he pressed the button for the lobby. “Son… I have some bad news.” May had called him earlier asking if Peter had spent the night. He told her the truth; they never made it to the penthouse. That part, at least, was true.

“What?”

He sighed. This would destroy Harry. “Peter’s missing.” He said it like he was pulling off a bandage.

Harry, who hadn’t bothered to look at his father, spun around. “He’s what?”

“Missing. The police are in the lobby to speak with us.”

Harry’s face went white and he turned away from Norman, leaning on the railing like he was doing standing push-ups. “Do you know where he is?” His tone was dark and accusing.

Norman tried not to act offended that his son would jump so quickly to accuse him. In truth, he was a little proud of the boy for knowing that his father would be willing to do that. “No, I don’t; but I was the last one who saw him. You’ll hear what happened downstairs.” He brushed down his suit as the door opened.

Two officers walked towards them. The younger one lifted her hand and Norman took it. “Mister Osborn, Officer Watanabe and my partner, Officer Avery.”

“Officers,” he greeted, shaking their hands. “And this is my son, Harry.”

“Avery, speak with the boy, will you?” He nodded and took Harry away. Whatever Harry said, he didn’t know anything about any of this. He had no clue about any of this.

Norman followed Watanabe to one of the benches and they sat down. “As you are aware, Peter Parker has been reported missing.”

He nodded slowly; a measured move. He didn’t want to act too concerned but acting too cold would indicate that he didn’t care. “He’s a good boy…”

“Yes… Mrs. Parker told us that you picked him up yesterday morning to help your son with his studies. You were the last person to see him. What happened?”

Norman looked up as if he were trying to remember what had happened. It was a ruse. He had practiced this moment many times over the past few hours, but he had to make sure that it sounded unrehearsed and raw. “Yes… I told May that we never made it to the penthouse. We came here and he got a phone call in the lobby and then ran off after mumbling something about his aunt. He’s always been a bit flakey when it came to those things. He’s been like that for about a year… always running off.” Was that too much information? Should he have stopped? It was too late now, regardless.

Watanabe wrote notes as he spoke. “Do you mind if we take a look around? Grab some security footage?”

“Of course not.” He stood. “Peter has been such a good friend to Harry. I will do everything in my power to make sure he is found. Whatever you need.”

Watanabe nodded and went to the surveillance booth. She would pull up the tapes and see a video of the limo pulling up. She would see him and a young boy step out and the story play out exactly as he had described it. She would get witnesses to confirm the story. She would search a new limo with Peter’s DNA, but no trace of foul play and then she would leave.

He turned to Harry as his son tearfully answered the police officer’s questions. Harry was struggling with his grades. That much was true. It was normal for Norman to bring Peter over for an emergency study session. Peter had spent the night there recently. It was normal… everything was normal. He wrung his hands together as the officer nodded and went to Watanabe with his report.

Harry came and sat by his father, juggling his leg up and down as he tried to conceal the tears born of worry and probably anger. “Dad…?” he asked quietly. “Where’s Peter Parker?”

In the lab, Norman walked through the area. Everything about their new experiment was kept as quiet as possible. Only a handful of people even knew about their new hire and those who did know weren’t allowed to breathe a word about it. Norman knew he should feel guilty about it. Peter was a good boy. But he was also a marvel of scientific discovery. A metahuman with powers that were a mystery to himself and everyone around him. He was too perfect of a monster to just release back into the wild.

“Dr. Skirth,” he called as he stepped into the room where they were keeping him. He was strapped to a vertical gurney with wires and monitors and IVs and fluids hooked up to him. They were monitoring his vitals and making sure everything was still working. A woman with glasses stepped into the room.

“You called?”

“How is his blood work?”

“Fascinating.”

He laughed, shaking his head slowly. It was perfect.  _He_ was perfect. “The symbiote? Where is it?”

Skirth looked at him with a side-eye. Her face went slightly pale. “It’s in its cage,” she answered softly. The suggestion had spooked her. She seemed afraid of where this was going. “Why?”

Norman shrugged. They needed to push the limits of the kid that they had brought into their building. “See how it reacts to his blood. You told me the thing grows weaker… maybe there’s something in Spider-man’s blood that it will react to?”

She looked from Norman to Peter and frowned. “Sir… you know I don’t mean to pry, but this kid… is he that boy they’re looking for?”

Norman cut off her questioning. He didn’t pay these people to question his choices. “He’s Spider-man. That’s all you need to know about him.” He turned away. Even though Peter’s face was covered by the mask, he couldn’t bare to look at him. He had to think of him as Spider-man… the man who was ruining his life and putting his family in danger. He wasn’t Peter Parker… he  _couldn’t_  be; because if he allowed himself to see Peter, he might feel somewhat bad about what he was doing.

Harry stared at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists as the subway rocked. He wasn’t used to taking the subway. Either he was on his glider or in his private car; but his dad didn’t know where he was going.

It had been almost a week since Peter’s disappearance and the rest of the city was moving on as if nothing was wrong. His world was falling in, and May’s world was being ripped apart and the city marched on. Harry knew that he should have seen this coming. Peter made enemies and sometimes those enemies wanted him dead.

He shook his head. No… Peter wasn’t dead. He  _couldn’t_  be dead.

When the subway came to a halt, he quickly got off and hurried up the steps. The apartment building that he stood in front of was more like home than his own apartment as he walked into the rundown building. He clenched his fists walking up the stairs. The elevators were too fast. He didn’t know how to face her and tell her that he was sorry… did she know that he was Spider-man? Would telling her make her feel better about the fact that her nephew was missing?

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the doorway. He looked up and knocked carefully.

May slung the door open and her face fell. She had probably been expecting a police officer. “Harry…” she breathed. Her voice was shaking. Her eyes were bloodshot and sunken in and her face was pale and tired.

“Mrs. Parker…” he didn’t know how else to address her.

Before he could say anything else, she grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug. It was the first time he had visited since Pete vanished and he felt awful. He knew Peter would have wanted to him to make sure she was okay in his absence. He stayed rigid in her embrace for a moment, unsure of what to do. What could he do? He couldn’t make this better. He couldn’t offer her anything… except comfort. He wrapped his arms around her small body and held tight. “I’m sorry, May…” he whispered. She couldn’t answer him through her sobs.

Eventually, he was in the kitchen cooking while she sat at the table, swirling tea and milk absently. He didn’t know what to say to her. The house that had seemed so full of life and happiness was now nothing but a tomb. “Your father… came to pick him up.”

Harry nodded. He knew the story, and he had answered all the questions. Yes, he had been struggling with those subjects and yes, it was normal for Peter to come to his house to help out. That was all true. He had seen the tapes.

“He saw him last…” May whispered. He looked down at the skillet of chicken that he was cooking. He didn’t know anything about cooking but May needed a good meal and needed to not be alone. Good meal was an overstatement. The chicken in the pan looked dry and burnt.

“You know, maybe we should go get something,” he suggested. “I never learned to cook.”

“Where’s Peter, Harry?”

A shiver went down his spine like cold water being thrown on him. He didn’t know how to answer that. He didn’t know where Peter was, but he couldn’t say that he was 100% sure that his father didn’t know where her nephew had been taken. “I don’t know,” he whispered, turning to her. “Come on… let’s go get you something to eat.” He walked to the table and helped her to her feet.

Before they even made it to the door, she broke into tears, holding her hands to her face. “I never found out…” she gasped. “He was crying out for help! And I couldn’t help him!”

The pit of Harry’s stomach felt like it was full of stones. “May, don’t—”  _Blame yourself…_

“I’m never going to see him again!” she cried, leaning on the doorframe. “He was struggling with something and I stopped trying…! I stopped trying!” She put her head on the frame and the tears came faster. “I loved him, but I felt him slipping away. I couldn’t connect with him and I was losing him ever since Ben died. And I could stop this!”

Harry cocked his head. “May, do you think Peter…  _hurt_  himself?” Now he felt like he was going to vomit. Not only was Peter missing, May blamed herself for what happened… whatever  _that_ was. She couldn’t answer his question and he rubbed her back gently. “May… wherever he is, I  _know_  he wouldn’t want you blaming yourself for this. He didn’t hurt himself.” That wasn’t of much comfort to her. If Peter hadn’t intentionally run away, that meant that he had been murdered or kidnapped. Neither one was a good outcome.

“Where did I go wrong?” she asked him.

“You didn’t.” He didn’t know what to tell her. If Peter was still alive and if he came back, he wouldn’t want May knowing that he was Spider-man. “We’ll find him, May… I swear.”

He didn’t want to get her hopes up just to have them shatter in front of her. Losing Peter for good would destroy her. She couldn’t handle it if he never came back. 

After a few minutes, he managed to get her out of the house and to a nearby Tai restaurant. It was awkward eating with her without Peter, but it had to be done. She needed to take care of herself because if Peter came back and she wasn’t there, it would destroy him as well. Those two needed each other. 

He made sure she had eaten the entire meal and then he bought her a few more take home meals before taking her back to her apartment. He waited with her for a while, listening to her talk and then watching TV with her. The whole thing was weird, but if it helped her, he’d be there all day. He’d come everyday with groceries or prepared meals. He’d do everything for her because it meant she would be there if Peter came home.

He shook his head as that thought crossed his mind. When Peter came home… This wasn’t a matter of _if._ Peter was coming back, even if he had to kill someone.

When he got home, his father was waiting for him. It was dark by that point, but not nearly as late as his normal entrance. “Harry,” Norman greeted. “Where were you?”

“Visiting May,” Harry answered. There was no point in lying to Norman about it. Maybe if he knew what happened, hearing that his son was comforting the woman whose child he took would cause enough guilt for him to come clean. 

Norman barely reacted to that. “How is she?” he asked without looking up from his laptop as he typed. 

“Not good.” He didn’t want to sugarcoat it. “Dad… if you knew where Peter was, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

That got his father’s attention. He looked up from his work with his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Why do you think I know where he is?” he asked. There was nothing in his voice that gave away anything. It was as deadpan as possible.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know… you were the last one to see him.”

“The police have already confirmed that he left our building on his own free will.”

Harry clenched his fists. He didn’t care what the police said. He wanted to know where his friend was. He turned his back to Norman and let out a long sigh. Something buzzed in the back of his head. Frustration rose in his throat, filling him with dread and anger. He turned back around. “Dad—”

“I don’t know where he is!” Norman snapped, standing up from his desk. “And I won’t be interrogated by my own son! I pray he’s found, Harry, but I have bigger things to handle here! I’m _sorry_ Peter is gone!”

“Are you?” Harry challenged. Usually he wouldn’t challenge his father; especially when he was this angry. Something was going on in his mind… making him more aggressive. “You never liked Peter, dad. Or… you liked him _too_ much.”

“I loved Peter,” Norman snapped back. He didn’t seem unbalanced by his son’s insubordination. “But I love _you_ more, and that’s a choice I had to make.”

“What does that mean, dad?” Harry asked, stepping forward. “Do you know where he is?”

Norman closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No,” he grumbled.

“Don’t lie to me!” 

“I’m not lying, Harry!” He stepped out from behind the desk and walked towards his son. Harry held his ground, clenching his fists. He had never feared his father. Everything Norman did was for the betterment of this family, even if Harry didn’t believe that. Though now his father was advancing on him with anger in his eyes. “You want to know where Peter is? He’s probably dead!”

Harry narrowed his eyes without speaking. 

“If someone isn’t found within the first 72 hours, the likelihood that they will be found alive diminishes exponentially every hour they aren’t found! Your friend is probably sitting at the bottom of the bay. That’s what happens when you mess with the mob!” He shook his head. “Peter had enemies, Harry… more enemies than you know. I don’t know what that boy was into before he disappeared, but he wasn’t the kid you thought he was.”

Harry shook his head and started for his bedroom. He didn’t want his dad to see him cry. Before he slammed his door, he stopped in the doorway. “You’re wrong,” he said. His own voice surprised him. He had expected it to be cracking as he held back tears. But it wasn’t cracking. It was darker in tone… almost as if it wasn’t his voice. “You’re wrong about him. He _is_ twice the man I thought he was; and I _will_ find him.” He turned back to his father and smiled. It was a wide, manic grin that didn’t match the tone that was in his voice. “And if I find out that you had anything to do with this; that you had _something_ to do with causing that poor family more pain, then heaven help you.”


	17. Day One

>  

 

>  Chapter Seventeen: Day One

Time meant nothing. Had he been there for a day? A week? A month or year? His entire life? He didn’t know. The stupor they kept him in didn’t allow him to keep track of time. Sometimes he would be almost completely aware, but unable to move. Other times it was like looking through a haze. The room was often covered in pea soup fog that he was sure only he could see. Sometimes a calm, soothing voice spoke to him. Others, another voice was sympathetic to his plight.

She had cried. Her voice had cracked. But she still took blood and pumped his veins with drugs. When he passed out, he didn’t know how long he was out. When he woke, he didn’t know how long he stayed awake. It could have been hours or minutes.

The only thing keeping him from falling into a pit a despair about his situation was the thought of May. She didn’t know where he was. She didn’t know if he was alive. He  _had_  to be alive for her. He couldn’t give up just because it was hard. She wouldn’t survive if he never came home.

“Hey Pete…” The voice wasn’t real. He knew that. But he  _wanted_  it to be real. He looked up. The lab where he was being held captive was still there, but it was fuzzy and cold. A kindly old man was standing several feet in front of him. His brown jacket and jeans were out of place in a lab where people wore white coats and gloves. Peter tried to smile, but it didn’t come. The man walked towards him, burying his hands in his pockets as he walked. “How are you feeling, Pete?” he asked gently.

Peter closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. “I’m tired…” he whispered. “I’m so  _tired_ , Uncle Ben…”

The man in his mind laughed softly. “I know you are.” He pretended he could feel someone touching his cheek. “You can rest… Come with me, if you want.”

He leaned into the ghostly touch. He wanted so badly to just give in. They were torturing him here. And even if he managed to escape, Harry’s dad had done this to him. His one ally, The Goblin, was a killer. Gwen’s father was dead, and the police thought Spider-man killed him. Fisk knew who he was and Manfredi was trying to kill him. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to just stop.

Then Aunt May’s voice filled his head. An image of her weeping over his grave filled his mind. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t stop because she needed him to keep going. “I can’t...” His voice was raspy and heavy. “Not yet…”

“Can’t what?”

He jolted and suddenly everything was clear. A woman with her hair in a messy bun was staring at him. The apparition of Ben was gone, taking all the warmth with him. Peter knew it had just been a hallucination, but it had been the only solace he had. “Water…” he rasped. Skirth nodded and brought a cup to his lips after pulling the mask away from his mouth. “Thank you.”

She didn’t make eye contact with him. Instead, she turned her back to him to work with his blood. “You know that you are fascinating, don’t you?”

“Special,” he breathed. He couldn’t form full sentences now that he was out of the dream realm.

“Very.” She turned to him and frowned. “I… I’m sorry.” He would have shrugged if he could. Why would it be his responsibility to make sure she felt okay about doing this? Clearly, she didn’t feel okay about it or she wouldn’t be trying to seek for his forgiveness. “You seem like a good kid, and I…” She trailed off as the door to their lab opened.

Osborn stepped in with a wide smile on his face. “Good morning, Dora!” Peter closed his eyes and pretended to be passed out. He hoped she wouldn’t give him away. So… it was morning? That didn’t help him much. How long had he been missing?

“Good morning, sir,” Skirth said quietly. “What are you doing down here?”

“I’m here to oversee our guest. What have you found out?”

“There’s not much else we can learn with his blood,” she answered.

Peter resisted the urge to flinch. That wasn’t what Norman wanted to hear. He wanted things to be working perfectly.

Norman clicked his tongue. “Drop him. I want a field test of his powers and then I want your team to isolate what makes his blood special. If we can, we might be able to counteract the serum. And then we can fix it.”

Dora sighed and put her hand on Peter’s chest. “I’m about to give you a shot of adrenalin. It won’t feel great.”

“Fine…”

He felt the now familiar feeling of a pinprick and then his eyes shot open as the drug coursed through him. He gasped as Dora released him and he fell to his knees hard. Even with the shot, he was still groggy and tired. Norman knelt in front of him and reached down, lifting Peter’s head to make eye contact with him. The man probably felt confident that Peter wouldn’t hurt his best friend’s father. He was considering it, though. A good punch to Norman’s face would be good enough. But he didn’t have the strength. And even if he did, he wouldn’t make it out of this lab before the rush wore off.

“How are you feeling, Spidey?”

 _Go to hell…_ “Fine,” he said.

Norman sighed and stood, pulling Peter to his feet with him. Peter stumbled beside the man and went with him as he was dragged to another room and thrown inside. Peter stumbled forward and then fell against the wall on the other side. “Why are you doing this?” he asked finally.

“Because you dragged my son into your twisted web of shadows, and someone had to die for it!”

“What… are you talking about?” What happened to Harry? Why hadn’t he heard about this?

Norman laughed softly. “You… you don’t even know, do you?” He shook his head. “I guess that makes sense. Harry’s always been a secretive one.” He shut the door behind him. “Just know, Peter, that when I do finally allow you to rest, your death won’t be in vain.”

 

Gwen paced the roof top that she was standing on. Peter did this every night. He jumped out there without a care in the world. “He has powers,” she said to the air. She was strong… stronger than most the people in her life, but that didn’t mean her arms were strong enough for web swinging. She shook her head. Peter was missing, and had been for several weeks. She was tired of doing nothing. Someone had to do something and if she was that someone, then so be it.

School had been terrible. Peter’s absence was felt throughout. Most of the students who had never given him a passing glance all had something to say. Some gave their condolences or murmured about how the Parker family was cursed. Others were rude about it; saying that he either ran away to do drugs, or he killed himself. She didn’t believe that either one of them were true. She prayed that they weren’t. They couldn’t be

She poised to jump, but before she could, she heard a whirring sound. She turned as a glider hovered beside him. “If you want to jump, this fall might kill you.” The young man on the glider stepped down. “What are you doing up here?”

“Practicing,” she said. “Spider-man needs my help.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed, Gwen.”

She turned to the newcomer and narrowed her eyes. “How…?” He reached up and pulled off his hood and mask. “Harry?”

He nodded. “Why are you doing this, Gwen? You have no powers and no way to really help.” She didn’t like that he was right. She hated that she had no powers and no real way to help Peter… but she _had_ to. He’s missing. “But, I need _your_ help.”

“What?”

“Pete’s missing, and I think my dad has something to do with it.” He looked away from her. “Have you visited May lately? She’s falling apart without him. I know the police have all but given up on him, but I _can’t_ give up. I can’t.” He gestured to his own body. “I started this because I wanted to help him, and I will have failed if I let him rot.”

Gwen shook her head. This was a lot to take in. Harry was the Goblin? The police were looking for him for questioning about a body that had been found; plus the disappearance of Spider-man. She didn’t know all the ins and outs anymore now that her father was dead, but Watanabe was keeping her in the loop as much as possible.

“Wait… You _know_ about Peter?”

Harry cocked his head and nodded slowly. “ _You_ know about him?”

“He told me when I went after him for killing my dad,” she admitted. It wasn’t something that she was proud of, but it had led Peter to reveal his secret to her, and now she could help him. “And you think your dad has done something with Peter? How can I help?”

Harry sat down on the lip of the building and held his hands together. “I think he knows where Peter is because he’s being vague about it. He won’t talk to me about the day Peter disappeared.”

“Then go to the police,” Gwen suggested. She crossed her arms and looked down at him. Why did no one do the sensible thing? If Norman Osborn had Peter, or at least knew where he was, then why didn’t Harry just tell the police?

“They wouldn’t believe me,” Harry murmured softly. “Plus, if I go to the police station, my dad would know about it before I had a chance to talk to anyone. He had eyes and ears everywhere. You getting into the station is normal, and you know who to trust.”

Gwen nodded. She knew who to trust. What scared her though was that Harry believed that he had to hide from his father. “If we find out that your dad _did_ hurt Peter, what are you going to do?”

Harry didn’t answer… and that terrified her.

When they got to the Penthouse, Harry led her inside to an elevator that took them down instead of up. “Where are we going?” she asked. She wasn’t wearing the hood or mask anymore and her outfit was being covered with a light jacket, despite the fact that it was too hot now to be wearing one. She had assumed they would begin their search in the penthouse upstairs. They couldn’t go to the police on a hunch. They needed proof.

“You want to be a spider-person,” Harry said quietly. “We have ways to help you.”

The elevator dinged and the door slid open to reveal the lab. Gwen’s eyes widened. She had no idea that this was down here. Of course, she didn’t go to Harry’s house often, but this… this was incredible.

“Dora!” Harry called. A woman appeared from a room and her face paled.

“H-Harry… How are you?” She fumbled over her words like she was trying to speak too quickly. Gwen narrowed her eyes. Why was she so nervous? Harry either didn’t notice or pretended not to.

“Good,” he said without missing a beat. “Where’s the Spider lab?” Her face paled even more as she pointed. “Thanks!” He led Gwen down the hall. As she passed Dora, the woman watched them without trying to make it obvious. Gwen wanted a moment with the woman, but she didn’t say anything as they walked to what Harry called “The Spider Lab.”

Inside the lab were several gadgets that were meant to mimic Spider-man’s powers. There were grab and release grappling hooks that seemed to mimic the swinging ability. Harry picked up several gadgets, explaining what each of them did. They had gloves used for climbing walls and shoe soles for running.

“The grapplers take a lot of the shock out of swinging and the shoe soles are shock absorbent” he explained. “It’ll take a while to get used to any of this, but when we find Pete, he’s going to need our help.” After they had filled the backpack, they started to leave. As they passed a room, there was a loud grunt and a pained shout. And then the hiss of air. The door opened and Norman Osborn stepped out of the room with a gas mask on.

He seemed taken aback by the kids running around his lab. “Harry?” He turned to look at Gwen. “And… George Stacy’s kid, right?” She nodded. “A pity about your father. I’m sorry, dear.” He turned back to Harry without giving her a chance to comment on his pathetic attempt at condolences. “Harry, you know you’re not supposed to bring guests down here.”

“I know,” Harry said, nodding quickly. “But, her uncle is really interested in cross-species genetics, so I thought I’d show her what we’re working on down here!”

Norman’s face grew darker. “I see… Well, don’t let it happen again. At least let me know when we have guests.”

Harry looked behind his father and cocked his head. “What’s going on in there?” he asked, pointing to the enforced door.

Norman smiled. “Just some testing of new equipment,” he said with a soft laugh. “Don’t worry about it. We’re almost finished with it. I doubt we’ll get anything useful out of it.” He paused just long enough to congratulate himself with a firm nod. “Regardless, you two need to run along. We have sensitive work down here.”

“Sure.” Harry nodded to Gwen and motioned her to follow him. She did, but when she looked back, Dora was watching them go before Norman called her away.

“Who’s that woman?” Gwen asked once the doors were closed.

“Dora Skirth? She’s one of my dad’s assistances from the Life Foundation,” Harry explained. A lot of that didn’t make sense, but it didn’t matter.

“Is she always that skittish?”

“Not usually,” Harry said with a shrug. Gwen bit her lip. Something about it seemed odd, but Harry didn’t seem to think anything was out of the ordinary. “Why?”

Gwen sighed. She needed to talk to that woman _before_ she went to the police. Harry was clueless, it seemed. She didn’t say anything to him about it and they departed for him to look for clues in the penthouse. Once away from him, she looked through the gadgets that she had been given, adding them to her suit. She wouldn’t try them out in the open, but for now, she needed Dora Skirth. That woman knew something and Gwen needed to get it out of her.

Later that night, she was back at the building, crouching on a fire escape. She had told her uncle that she was staying at her friend MJ’s house that night so that he didn’t get worried about her. Since her father died, her uncle had let her do anything as long as she framed it as needed for her grief recovery.

Just before midnight, the door to the building opened and the woman walked out. Her clothes were disheveled and her hair was unkempt. Good. It meant she wasn’t put together well. That would help. Gwen had gone through enough interrogation with her father to know how this went. She pulled down her mask and put on the hood. She wasn’t too keen on trying out her sticking powers so soon, but she needed to be as intimidating as possible. She looked down at the palms of her hands and clenched her fists before moving to the wall and sticking to it.

She had watched Peter move on the walls enough to know how he did it, but she wasn’t prepared for the contortionist’s way his body had to move to achieve the crawling. Once she got the movements down enough, she stalked Miss Skirth as she walked down the streets.

When there weren’t people around Gwen crawled down the wall and shouted. “Dora Skirth!” It was her best terrifying voice she could muster. The poor woman nearly jumped out of her skin as she spun around to come face to face with a white masked spider-person.

“W-who…?” she gasped, clutching her chest. Gwen hoped she didn’t have a gun, but the woman was reaching for her purse. Gwen was afraid to lift her hand to use the webbing to stop her. She wasn’t sure how well she could balance herself with just one hand on the wall. She jumped from the building and landed in front of Dora. She backed away. “Who are you…?”

Gwen bit her lip and hesitated. She hadn’t thought about that. What _was_ her superhero name? “Ghost Spider,” she blurted out, realizing that she was wearing white and had come out after Spider-man’s disappearance. “And I need to find Spider-man…” she paused. “ _Now!_ And I know you know something!” She stepped towards the woman. “So tell me where he is!”

Dora’s face paled and she took several steps back. Gwen clenched her fists. The woman was terrified and she didn’t know how she was supposed to get her to talk. She was probably more scared of Norman Osborn than some random superhero showing up. Now what? She couldn’t hurt the woman… could she?

 _Peter could be dying,_ she reasoned. Maybe roughing her up would be good. She moved as quickly as she could and grabbed Dora by the shoulders, slamming her against the wall behind her. “Where is he?” she shouted.

Dora closed her eyes and turned away. “I don’t know!”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“P-please! If I… if I tell you anything, they’ll kill me!”

Gwen narrowed her eyes. Of course. She was be more terrified of what Norman could do her than what Ghost Spider could. Gwen didn’t have the means to scare her like Norman could. “He’s just a kid,” she reasoned, softening her grip. “He has a family, and people who love and miss him. If he’s still alive… you _have_ to tell me.” She didn’t want to beg. This woman clearly had a heart and their work was sickening her. If she could just appeal to that, maybe Peter could be saved.

Dora shoved Gwen from her. Something clattered to the ground between them. “I can’t help you,” she said with a shaking voice. “I’m sorry…” Gwen let her go before looking down at what had fallen. It was a blank keycard. Gwen watched her go as she picked up the card. She turned the card in her hand and then took off towards the Osborn building, taking her phone from the pouch in her costume.

Harry answered on the second ring. “What’s up?”

“Meet me in the lobby of your building. I think I might have found Peter.”

Ten minutes later, Harry was down in the lobby in his Goblin suit. She crossed her arms and observed the suit. “Is that necessary?” she asked, clicking her tongue.

Harry shrugged. “Pete doesn’t know that I’m the Goblin. And… he doesn’t know that I know he’s Spider-man.”

Gwen studied him for a moment. This really was some kind of tangled web. She closed her eyes and nodded. “Fine. But lying to him—”

“He’s been lying to us for a year!” Harry snapped. His voice was a little strange, but she didn’t comment on it. Now wasn’t the time to deal with that. This was between Harry and Peter, and right now, Peter needed them to be there for him.

She followed Harry down into the bottom labs and handed him the keycard. He didn’t say anything as he scanned the card to find what lab room it was for. She paced while he dug through the files. The whole area was creepy without the hustle and bustle of workers. The only sounds were the furious typing and the sounds of a quiet lab. Hissing, whispering, beeping… it was like some horror movie. She rubbed her arms while he worked. Peter needed them… and if he had spent the last five weeks in this lab, she didn’t know who he would be when he came out.

“That one!” Harry called, pointing to the lab that Norman had stepped out of earlier. They ran and he scanned the card. Gwen shook her head. Half of her was praying they wouldn’t find him in there. If he was in there, then he had been in hell for the past few weeks. She didn’t want him to be in there because she wanted him to be safe. She wanted him to have run away to gather himself. She didn’t want him to have been kidnapped.

The door opened and her heart fell just as much as it soared upon seeing the crumpled-up kid huddled in the corner of the room. Harry hung back as Gwen ran into the room, shouting at him to call 911. She fell to her knees beside him and put her hands on his shoulder.

He opened his eyes slightly and she laughed through her tears. “Hey, Pete…” she whispered.

He looked at her. No… _through_ her. Her heart sunk when he spoke. It wasn’t how raspy his voice was or how sick and tired he sounded. No… it was what he said. He took a long breath. “Uncle Ben?”

 


	18. Everybody Knows

>  Chapter 18: Everybody Knows

While waiting for the police to arrive, Gwen was sitting in the small room with Peter leaning against her, trembling like a wet puppy. He hadn’t spoken yet and she wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. Harry was fuming, but she had managed to calm him down enough to prevent him from going upstairs and tearing his father apart. Norman had known Peter was down there. He had stepped out of the room where they were keeping him. There were vents in each corner on the floor and ceiling, and the harsh smell of chemicals still hung in the air. They had been keeping him drugged to prevent him from escaping. She sighed. She didn’t know Harry and his father well, but Peter and Harry had been inseparable since before she knew either of them. That meant Norman knew Peter well, and he still had the stomach to do this.

The sound of the elevator opening caught Gwen’s attention and she turned her gaze from Harry’s pacing to behind him where the lab could be scene. Harry turned and his stance stiffened. Not the police, then. Norman Osborn and a sharply dressed man that Gwen guessed was some sort of butler or manservant for the Osborn family.

Norman paused at the door and looked between Gwen and Peter, and Harry. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Alright,” he said with a nod. He turned to the man. “Bernard, just… stall the police.” He didn’t sound panicked; just mildly annoyed. Bernard nodded and left without a word. Once he was gone, Norman turned his attention to his son. Gwen flinched. Harry’s identity as the Goblin was going to come out. Whether or not Peter was even coherent enough to remember this was up in the air, though. Norman sighed. “Harry—“

He barely got the name out before Harry threw a punch at his father, sending him staggering back as blood gushed from his nose. The punch was stronger than any normal human. Gwen put her hand on Peter’s shoulder but he barely flinched.

Norman rubbed his jaw from where he had fallen and he sighed with a nod, as if that were entirely expected. “As I was saying,” he said as he stood, “we will talk about this later.” Blood dripped from his broken nose and already his face was swelling. He didn’t seem bothered.

“You bastard!” Harry shouted. He was shaking and probably doing everything in his power to hold back from ripping his father’s head off.

“Yes,” Norman agreed with a nod. “Now, allow me to handle the police…”

“How could you?” Harry screamed with a mix of hysterics, sadness, hurt and righteous anger.

Norman remained cool as he looked down at his fuming son. It was like watching a raging wildfire meet a wall of ice. “There are things you are not yet ready to understand, Harry.” He smoothed down his suit before turning to Gwen. “Apologies, my dear,” he said with a small nod; as if they were having a minor family spat at dinner. “You two don’t touch anything.” He turned back to Harry and frowned. “I love you, son.”

“Go to hell,” Harry snapped. Norman nodded, resigned, and sighed before leaving the room. Harry let him go and didn’t turn to leave until the elevator was gone.

“Where are you going?” Gwen asked him. Her own voice surprised her. It was small and she was scared. Scared for Peter, scared for Harry and scared for what he might do.

“Away from here.” She started to leave, but paused at the door. “Tell Pete… Tell him that I’ll come visit him soon.” And he was gone.

Gwen didn’t know when the tears started, but her face was soaked by the time a team of police officers hurried out of the elevator. Everything was blur afterward. Watanabe ran in as Avery picked her off the ground. Watanabe worked with Peter while Gwen answered a flurry of questions. Before long, the paramedics came. From the corner of her eye, she watched them check his vitals. He was like a rag doll as they did the emergency check. Any response he gave them to their questions were short and nonverbal; but at least he was responding.

They took him away on a stretcher. Watanabe sent Avery with the paramedics and she stayed with Gwen. Once everyone was gone, Gwen fell against the wall and buried her head in her hands as the tears that had been slowly leaking out came at full force. Watanabe gave her all the time she needed.

When she was finally able to speak, she straightened up on the wall. “He’s going to be fine,” Watanabe said with a nod. Gwen nodded. “Nice suit…”

She cursed under her breath. Norman might have missed the Ghost Spider suit as she was holding Peter when he spoke to her, but there was no way the two police officers had.

Watanabe took off her jacket and handed it to Gwen to conceal the suit. “I can’t condone what you’re doing,” she said without making eye contact. “Your father wouldn’t approve of this; of you running around in tights and doing what other costumed freaks do.”

“I know,” she whispered, wrapping the jacket around her small frame tightly.

“That said,” Watanabe continued, “what you did tonight… Good job.” She didn’t feel like she had done a good job. Peter was suffering; but his suffering was over, wasn’t it? “I think Captain Stacy would have been proud of you tonight, Gwen.”

She couldn’t meet the officer’s eyes. The lump in her throat threatened to bring her tears anew.

“And don’t worry… Avery’s a good cop. If you continue to do this, your secret is safe with us both.”

She still didn’t say anything. She wanted to go home, and she wanted to be by Peter’s side. She wanted none of this to have happened. That boy didn’t deserve any of this.

Watanabe waited another minute for Gwen to respond before patting her on the shoulder. “Come on. We need to let the detectives do their work.” Gwen followed her out of the lab and into the elevator. She felt like she was in a daze. None of this felt real. How could this have happened? How could they _let_ it happen?

When she stepped out of the elevator, Norman was in the hallway talking to another officer. Henderson, if Gwen remembered correctly. He wasn’t in handcuffs, but it didn’t look like he was going back to his penthouse that night. As Gwen watched, Henderson gently spun Norman around and placed the cuffs on his wrists. Norman didn’t seem concerned. If anything, he was simply watching everything with the coldest of expressions. His eyes landed on Gwen and for a heartbeat, that chill turned to fiery rage. 

“Norman Osborn,” Henderson said, breaking the moment between her and Norman. “You’re under arrest for the kidnapping and detainment of Peter Parker.”

 

May Parker was in the middle of trying to fix herself some dinner at nearing 2 am when the call came. She had slowly been trying to prepare herself for the call to come… the call where they told her that they had found Peter dead somewhere. She had all but given up on seeing him alive again. She had read all the literature that said that the longer people were missing, the less likely they would found alive. She hadn’t wanted that, but it was the reality of the situation. Peter had been gone for five weeks. In New York, that was a death sentence.

When the phone rang, all the blood in her body went cold. She wanted to let it go to voice mail. She wanted them to tell her answering machine that her nephew was dead. She didn’t want to be on the other end of that conversation. “What am I going to do without him?” she asked Ben as she crossed the kitchen to where she had left her cellphone. She wasn’t sure she could survive knowing she had outlived him; outlived _both_ of them.

Dread filled her as she picked up the phone and recognized Watanabe’s number. She let her ringtone go for a few more seconds. If he was dead, she could at least move on. But she shook her head. She couldn’t think like that. She’d never move on despite all her best efforts to. She picked up the phone. “Mrs. Parker,” Watanabe said. Her voice was curt, but it didn’t sound like she was straining to say the words. “We found Peter… alive…”

May’s heart skipped several beats and she didn’t fully register that a car was being sent to her house to take her to the hospital. Her knees felt weak and she leaned on the counter as the officer spoke, assuring her that Peter’s condition was stable.

The ride to the hospital was a blur. Peter was alive. She didn’t think she believed it. How could she? Not an hour ago, she was trying to process that Peter would never come home. Now she was being told that he was alive. And he was… okay? He probably wasn’t okay. Peter wouldn’t be okay for a long while but he was at least alive. That was all that mattered.

She hardly registered anything as they walked through the hospital to Peter’s room. She paused a moment when they got to the elevator. A young woman stepped out of it. “Excuse me,” she said quietly as she passed May and the officer. May watched her. Something about the woman was off. The way she had said “excuse me” was a bit… off. She almost sounded deaf.

May shrugged and stepped in after the officer. When they got to Peter’s room, she hung back without opening the door. “Ma’am?” the officer asked her.

She shook her head with a choked sob. She could be happy that Peter was alive, but she also had to remember that this moment would never come for Ben. She looked up to the ceiling and sent up a small prayer; for the one she lost and one she was getting back. A thank you… She opened the door and her breath caught.

Peter had always been a rather scrawny kid and he had never been tanned. Now he looked like a skeleton of his formal self and his skin was washed and pale. She walked to the bed, both overjoyed to see him and heartbroken that he was in such a condition. She put her hand on his arm and her stomach lurched at how clammy and cold his skin was. She pulled a chair up to the bed and sat as the tears she had been trying to control flowed freely.

 

“Damn it!” Norman shouted, throwing a glass at the wall. He had been processed and released after paying a large amount for bail. He had planned for this. Peter had never left the area of the lab that was rented out to Star Labs. They would take the fall for this. Henderson was already working on getting things together for him. Evidence disappeared constantly. His lawyers would handle any loose ends. He had _planned_ for this and he wasn’t going to prison for kidnapping.

That wasn’t the problem. The problem was Harry. His own son. Harry couldn’t do anything like getting Norman a one way ticket to prison; but Norman was worried about what the kid might do. He also had Manfredi and Fisk to worry about. Both of them had been expecting him to kill Spider-man and he hadn’t done that. Manfredi wasn’t a problem. He didn’t know Peter Parker was their arachnid themed menace. Fisk, however, did.

He grabbed the phone and dialed Manfredi’s person number. He didn’t like calling the man. He’d rather meet Silvio face to face. It was easier that way; seeing the man’s expression and playing off it. Manfredi picked up on the third ring. Fast, but not too fast. “Norman Osborn,” the old man greeted. “To what do I owe the pleasure? It’s 4:30 in the morning.”

“You’re up,” Norman said. He needed this done _before_ the news broke that he didn’t kill Peter. The contracts with Fisk had already been signed. He had been hoping to make the merger a little more permanent before dropping the bomb on Fisk Industries, but time was running short. It needed to be done now, or never. The second the news broke, Fisk would want to distance himself from Osborn and Oscorp, even if Star Labs took the fall for Peter’s kidnapping. “I need you to unleash Hell,” he explained. He didn’t want to beat around the bush. Oscorp wasn’t going to go down if the merger with Fisk didn’t go through.

Manfredi, however, would lose the land that Osborn had promised him. Right now, Manfredi needed Norman a lot more than Norman needed the Maggia. Manfredi sighed deeply. “I thought we were going to do that next month,” he said with a measured tone.

Norman clenched his fists. He didn’t want to sound desperate. He wasn’t. He didn’t _need_ Fisk Industries if this all fell through, but telling Manfredi why this had to be done _now_ , within the next two hours, would mean admitting that he didn’t kill Spider-man. And that would put Harry in danger. If he could get Manfredi to release the information on Fisk before he found out that Spider-man was still alive, Norman would have the land as a bargaining chip. He took a long breath to steady his nerves. He had done business deals before. This was just another business deal. “I figured we should move ahead with it. The contracts are all signed on my end.”

“I see,” he said with what Norman was sure was a nod. “I suppose that it would be in both our best interests to get this over with… won’t it?”

“Of course.”

He sighed. “Very well. I will have someone leave the file with your man on the force. He knows what to do with it, I assume.”

Norman nodded. “Yes.” Henderson wasn’t expecting a large file to show up with enough evidence to topple the Kingpin in his office today. He had enough to deal with now that he was trying to get Norman off for Peter’s kidnapping; but Henderson was the best in the business. Norman made a mental note to drop by later to visit the man and his family sometime soon.

“Consider it done,” Manfredi said and then he hung up before Norman could thank him for his services. He walked to the balcony, staring out at the city as the earliest risers started their daily commute. Somewhere out there, a man was walking with a file in his hands. In less than an hour, the police would be knocking down Fisk’s door.

Norman raised his glass towards Fisk’s building. The only innocent life that would end for this was May’s. Fisk would think Spider-man took him down and he’d retaliate before being hauled off to prison. It was a crying shame since May was such a lovely woman and Peter was a good enough kid who didn’t deserve any of this. “Omelets,” Osborn said with a shrug.

He turned to head back inside, but froze when he saw Harry standing in the living room with a backpack in his hands. “Dad,” Harry greeted. He seemed disoriented and nervous. His voice was shaking and his forehead wet with sweat. His anger seemed to have dissipated, leaving nothing more than the lows from the high the serum gave him.

“Son,” Norman said with a nod. He hadn’t expected Harry to come back any time soon. Clearing his head should have taken longer than a few hours.

“Why aren’t you in jail?” Harry asked, his voice tight.

Norman bit his lip in annoyance. That was what his son wanted to know? “I told you, I’d take care of it.”

“And I told _you_ that you’d pay if Oscorp was involved in Peter’s disappearance,” Harry reiterated. Norman’s broken nose and swollen cheek throbbed as if to remind him what Harry had done to already make good on that promise.  

“Quite,” Norman said with a nod. “What’s in the pack?”

“Clothes. I’m going to stay in a hotel.”

That was to be expected. “At least take Bernard with you,” he said dismissively. He couldn’t let Harry think that his act of defiance was bothering him. Harry was safe, and that was all that mattered right now. They’d eventually mend their relationship, but it couldn’t be mended if his son was dead.

“No. He knew about this and did nothing,” Harry declared, leaving Norman to release a longsuffering sigh. He didn’t think Harry would make good on his promise to make him pay, whatever that meant.

“Very well.” He leaned on the wall behind him and sipped the bitter amber liquid in the glass.

His lack of a reaction seemed to infuriate Harry. He clenched to pack tightly and his hands shook. “You don’t feel bad about this?”

“I would if I had done it for any other reason,” Norman answered in a calm, measured voice. “You know what your friend is and what he was getting in to. He needn’t have gotten deep into this, but he did, and there were consequences.” He motioned to the penthouse. “One does not accumulate this much wealth and power without sacrificing bits and pieces of their souls. A little here-“ he motioned to one end of the penthouse, “-and a little there.” The other now. “Until all that remains is what you hold dearest… the things you are unwilling to give up for any amount of money.” Harry scoffed and looked away. “One day, son, you _will_ understand.”

“No,” he snapped with villainous venom in his voice. “I _won’t_ understand! This company was built on the blood of your sacrificial lambs, and I won’t be that kind of shepherd.”

“We all have good intentions… at first,” Norman whispered.

Harry crossed his arms, avoiding eye contact with his father. Norman wanted him to understand, but he didn’t want this to be the thing to break him. The serum running through him had done a number on him, but this attitude had always been in him; to take things to the extreme. He had taken up the mantle of the Goblin _before_ pumping his veins with the serum. “Screw you,” Harry snapped angrily.

Norman clenched his fists. “I did this for _you,_ ” he said with a dark tone. Harry flinched. “I did this because you went out there like an idiot and killed an assassin. Not just _any_ assassin, but Manfredi’s personal hitman.” He didn’t want to tell Harry this, but his son needed to learn that his actions carried consequences and he couldn’t escape them. “Manfredi… the leader of the Maggia! God, Harry! The only reason you’re still alive is because of what I did to Peter. Manfredi was going to _kill_ you unless I produced Spider-man’s corpse.”

Harry’s face went white and he shook his head as if he were trying to reject the words like water in his ears. “N-no… This… this can’t be _my_ doing.”

“It wasn’t,” Norman tried to assure him. “Not entirely. But you _need_ to understand that when you stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, _someone_ is going to get hurt.”

Harry put his hands to his head, shaking. “No!” he shouted. “ _You_ made this choice! Don’t try to blame me!”

“I’m not—”

“Shut up!” He took several steps back towards the door. Norman did nothing to try and stop him from leaving. What could he do? “This is your doing! Your fault! And you will pay for it!” He stormed out, leaving Norman alone in the large penthouse. He sighed and bowed his head, his injuries throbbing.

After a moment, he turned to the TV and turned it on. A breaking news story about Fisk was on and Norman clenched his fists. “So… it begins…”


	19. The Beauty of Grace

> Chapter Nineteen: The Beauty of Grace

The police were on their way. Maya watched as Fisk paced the office. There wasn’t anything they could do. It would be best if they went along with it. His lawyers would have him out within a few hours… But Maya wasn’t so sure. If the police were making such a bold move with no warning, that meant they had to have something big on Fisk. He seemed to realize that as well because his face was getting redder by the second.

Each step he took shook the floor, vibrating the room. She tried to image what his booming footsteps sounded like, but she couldn’t. He wasn’t talking. He wasn’t doing anything except pacing.

“Sir?” Maya said finally. He paused and turned to her with an expression that showed that he had forgotten she was there.

“What?” She couldn’t hear his tone, but the way his mouth moved was sharp, indicating to her that his tone was harsh.

“Perhaps…” she said, and signed at the same time, “we should meet them downstairs?” The better they appeared, the less likely the police will do something stupid. This wasn’t a fight they could win by brute force.

Fisk shook his head and took a deep breath to calm himself. He took a step towards Maya, moving his hands in something that resembled sign language as he spoke. “Norman didn’t kill Spider-man,” he explained. She nodded, indicating that she understood his poor attempt at signing. She wouldn’t have if he hadn’t spoken at the same time. Fisk had never gotten the hang of the language. There was a delicate way that it had to be spoken, and his hands were far too large for that. “And that little brat went to the police!”

Maya had gone to visit Peter in the hospital to prove that Norman had let them down in the murder of Spider-man. It turns out that he had. She made the sign for kill, using her right hand to make the sign for “k” and then slashing it across her upright left palm, with a questioning look. _Kill him?_

Fisk shook his head. “I want him to _suffer._ ” He made sure to emphasize the sign for “suffer” to show her that he wasn’t kidding around. She knew what that meant. Death was too good for Peter now. “You know what to do.” She nodded. She did. Fisk said nothing else as he stormed out of the room to go downstairs to meet the police.

She knew what she had to do…

 

The sound of a steady heartbeat monitor was the only thing that proved he was alive. He felt numb; like he _should_ be in pain, but he wasn’t. It was a weird feeling. He opened his eyes to a darkened room, and he looked around the best he could without stirring. The past few weeks had been a blur. When Gwen and Goblin had found him, he had hardly registered anything. Once getting to the hospital, he fell in and out of unconsciousness for the next few hours. Now wasn’t like the last few times he had woken up, though.

This time, he wasn’t seeing things that he shouldn’t be seeing, and he didn’t feel the tug of unconsciousness calling him back. He was finally waking up. May was sitting in the chair beside the bed with her head resting on her arms, sleeping. That was good. He looked over to the window to see the morning sun coming over the horizon. Soon, he was sure that the police would come, and he had a choice to make. Should he rat out Norman Osborn? He hated that he was even thinking about it. The answer was simple. He hated that he had to testify against Norman, and he hated Norman for putting him in this situation. Harry’s life was about to be turned upside down.

 _It’s already upside down,_ he thought with a shake of his head. Harry… was the Goblin. He should have seen that coming. He at least remembered that much from his time in the room. There were so many signs… but he had been so preoccupied with his own life to look at Harry’s. And that meant an entirely different set of problems. Harry was a killer now, and Peter had to treat to Osborn family, _his_ second family, like criminals. No matter what he did from this point on, his life was in shambles.

The door opened and he shut his eyes as May stirred. He didn’t want them to know that he was awake just yet. He’d rather they not know that he was awake just yet.

“Mrs. Parker?” the nurse whispered. Peter felt the weight on the bed leave as she stood. “Your nephew is suffering from malnutrition, but he is okay,” she explained. May let out a long sigh. “We’d like to keep him for observation for a few days. If you’d like to go get some clothes…” She trailed off. Peter dared a peek at the two women. May was standing there, nodding as the nurse spoke.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She turned back to Peter and he shut his eyes again and then she and the nurse were gone.

Peter waited several minutes before he opened his eyes again. The nurse was still in the room, checking his vitals. She smiled when she saw him awake. “Good morning, Peter,” she said warmly. “How do you feel?”

“Like I need a double cheeseburger,” he teased with a smile. Maybe they’d give him more than an IV bag to start to get his strength up. Unfortunately, he had been gone for five weeks. Spider-man needed to get back out there. He was still wanted for murder and Fisk was still a problem.

The nurse smiled back at him. “Would you like some TV?” she asked. “I heard something’s going down. I don’t know if you like watching the news…”

He nodded and she turned the TV on, flipping the channel to the Daily Bugle’s TV station. Peter’s blood went cold when he read the headline on the bottom. _Fisk Arrested._ He listened intently as Jameson went on to explain that an anonymous tip had come in with enough information about Fisk and his illegal operations. The document had also been released online by the same mysterious benefactor. Peter tried to hide his expression. He expected relief to wash over him. Fisk was going to jail. It was over… wasn’t it?

The relief that he was waiting for slowly turned to cold hard dread. No, it wasn’t over. Fisk would think that _he_ had gone to the police with a bunch of gathered information. He would know that Spider-man wasn’t dead, and he would retaliate… and Peter wasn’t his target. He was glad that his face was already pale because he was sure his face would be pure white by that point. He turned to the nurse. “Could you… get me something to drink?” he asked quietly. “Something with sugar… like juice.” He wanted her out of the room so he could go. Fisk had no one else to attack _except_ Aunt May.

The nurse smiled, oblivious. “Of course,” she said and then she was gone. The second the door shut behind her, Peter ripped off the IVs and heart monitors. Alarms started going off as the machines lost his heartbeat, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting to Aunt May before Fisk and his assassins did. He scrambled to the window, stumbling as he went. The hospital gown blew in the win as he leapt from the window, sticking to the wall and crawling away. Inside, he heard people hurrying into his room, but he ignored them as he crawled on the wall and then to the ground.

The run to his apartment was agonizingly slow. He didn’t have webshooters, which meant he was forced to run there on foot. It pained him to know that he couldn’t get there faster. He wished he could fly or run as fast as Quicksilver. Anything to get to May quicker. There was no one else for Fisk to take from him. No Captain Stacy to take the brunt of the man’s wrath.

Stupid… Peter could only think that as he tore down the street as fast as his tired legs could take him. As he rounded the corner, he expected to see a pillar of smoke at his apartment. There wasn’t anything there. It looked peaceful, but he wasn’t about to be lulled into a sense of security. He hurried to the building and started climbing up. This wasn’t how he wanted to get back into the game. He had hoped that Spider-man and Peter Parker didn’t reappear on the same day. Things did often turn out how he’d like, though.

He crawled into his room and grabbed his suit, throwing it on. If May knew that he was out here, she’d kill him. Just as he finished pulling the suit on, he heard the door being kicked in. He jumped out the window as May screamed and he circled around. He landed in a crouch in the hallway as he came swinging in.

The woman that had attacked him all those months ago was standing in the broken doorway. She had a staff in her hands, and she stepped forward into the apartment. “Hey!” Peter called. She didn’t even stop or acknowledge that he had spoken. He sighed. The puns and witty banter were easier when the people he was fighting actually bothered to answer him.

He ran after her as she entered his apartment. Just as he came in for an attack, the woman spun around and kicked him back into the hallway. Malnutrition. That was all he could think as his body slammed into the wall. He had fought this woman before and had lost. He was more experienced now, but five weeks in Norman’s science basement didn’t leave him with much left. He stumbled to his feet. “Don’t touch her!” Peter screamed, running back inside.

May was standing in the kitchen with one of their good knives aimed at the woman. It wouldn’t be enough. Peter knew that, but at least she was fighting back. Peter lunged at the woman. Without webs, this wasn’t going to be an easy fight. He didn’t want to destroy their apartment. He kicked the woman away, throwing her back, and then turned to May. He lowered the tone of his voice. “Ma’am, you need to leave!”

She stared at him with wide eyes. There was something in them. Fear, maybe? It looked like acknowledgement. She nodded and scrambled for the door while Peter ran at the assassin. He wanted to beg her to leave his aunt alone.

“Picking on kids and old women probably doesn’t give you much clout in assassin circles,” Peter snapped as he jumped out of the way of her spear. She didn’t respond to him. “Look, I’m trying to come up with some good material for you, but you aren’t carrying your weight in this conversation!” She attacked without a word at him. He tensed to lunge, but a blood curdling scream came from the hall. Peter turned his head towards the opened door, but the woman didn’t react to the scream and her attack came, throwing him off the wall and to the ground.

He didn’t care. He scrambled away from the woman and ran out the door, and then his blood went cold. Everything fell apart around him. Another person was there now. This one was dressed in a white, faceless suit. Ghost. Peter had gotten information from this person. Now she had a sword in May’s gut. She yanked the weapon and May fell against the wall before sliding down. Ghost turned back to Peter and nodded. “Fisk… sends his regards.” And then she was gone.

Peter couldn’t move. Everything… his whole body felt like it was made of lead. He couldn’t breathe as he stared down at his aunt and her bleeding belly. The woman stepped out of the apartment, hanging back. Peter didn’t even find it odd that she hadn’t run. He didn’t find any of this odd. This was it… what he had been trying to avoid. His stomach twisted.

He wheeled on the woman. “Is this what you wanted?” he shouted, his whole body shaking with rage and pain. She still said nothing. Peter cursed angrily and ran to May’s side, putting his hands over the wound.

“That… won’t help…”

He turned to her sharply. May’s blood was soaking the gloves. It felt hot and sticky. He didn’t have a good track record with holding the blood into someone’s body. “What?” She didn’t respond. “Damn it! What did you say? _What_ will help.”

She pointed to her own mouth and Peter cocked his head. She rolled her eyes and then motioned for him to remove his mask. His eyes widened. No wonder… The way she spoke. She was deaf. He removed the mask over his mouth. It didn’t matter since she already knew who he was. “Why won’t it help?”

She nodded. “Ghost uses poisons. The wound is superficial.” Peter turned to May and closed his eyes. “The ambulance is on the way.”

She started for the door. Peter threw something at her to get her attention. She turned back to him. “I didn’t tell the police,” he snapped. Her painted face went slightly pale and she cocked her head. “I didn’t tell them anything!” That was a lie, but this arrest wasn’t his fault.

“Echo,” she whispered. “My name is Echo.”

 

Peter, as Spider-man, paced the hall of the hospital. He had called Gwen and Harry and neither one had answered. He had left messages for them, but he was sure they made no sense. He wasn’t coherent.

The door opened and a doctor stepped out. “Uh… Spider-man?”

“How is she?” Peter asked before the man could say anything else. He knew that this man probably wouldn’t be able to tell him.

He coughed. “She’s… not well,” he said quietly. Peter nodded. “You can go inside.” The man didn’t ask questions. He probably figured that Spider-man was the next of kin or had some attachment to this case. Or the man was just a concerned fan of the webslinger. Either way, he said nothing as Peter stepped into the dark room. She was unconscious.

He shook his head. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair! What had his little family done to deserve any of this?

There was a knock on the window and Peter turned. Usually he was the one knocking on the window. He moved to it and opened it. The Goblin stepped inside. Peter had a hard time thinking about this young man as his best friend. He had so many questions for Harry about why he was doing this. “Harry…” he whispered.

“How is she?” He shook his head and Harry cursed. “Spider-man…” He continued to shake his head slowly. “My father… he’s the cause of this.”

“What?”

“This was Fisk, wasn’t it?” Peter nodded. “Fisk getting arrested was my dad’s doing, and he didn’t give a damn who he hurt in the process!” Harry turned to May and his face and voice softened. “Will she… be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted. He wanted her to be okay, but the doctor hadn’t seemed optimistic in the way he had spoken.

“Damn…” Harry started for the window.

“Where are you going?” Peter begged. He didn’t want Harry to leave. He wanted someone here so he could cry or scream or rant.

“My dad did this… he hurt May, and he hurt _you_ , and I told you that I started this to protect you. If I let him live, I would have failed. My father is the cause of all this. He said that there are sacrifices that had to be made, and he was willing to sacrifice you and May for this!”

“But where are you _going?_ ”

Harry sighed. “I’m going to go to my father, and I’m going to make him _pay_ for this. He deserves that much… right.”

Peter shook his head. That was the last thing he wanted. He didn’t want Harry to hurt his father. He wanted Harry to get over this; to be okay with it and help in a less violent way. “Your dad… He’s…” Peter shuddered. What was he doing? He shouldn’t want to protect Norman. He was the face that Peter would see in his nightmares for years to come. He had done this to May. He shouldn’t want to change Harry’s mind about this.

Harry shook his head slowly. “No… my dad is a monster. I tried to not see it my whole life. I wanted to believe that I could have a normal dad with a normal life. Every time he didn’t look at me… every time he looked at _you_ instead, I thought _one day… one day he’ll look at me. One day he’ll stop hurting people._  
 Harry laughed. “But I was wrong. And now he’s hurt people…” He shook his head with a choking, sobbing laugh. “And I have to admit that my dad’s a monster.” He clenched his fists. “And now I have to be a monster back… just this once.”

“Harry…”

“I’m made up my mind, Spider-man…”

“Don’t…”

“My dad’s going to pay for this.” He turned and jumped onto his glider outside the window. Peter watched him.

“Damn it!” Peter shouted, slamming his hands on the window. A part of him wanted to just let Harry go. Norman deserved it. He deserved to die by his own son’s hand. If anyone in this world deserved to have his life turn to hell, it was Norman Osborn.

“Spider-man…” May whispered.

Peter turned to her and lowered his voice as he hurried to her bed. “Ma’am… you’re going to be okay,” he said quickly. She didn’t look okay. When had she started to look so old? Did he miss that? How could he have missed it? She looked so… tired; and he wanted to stay for her, but… He turned to window. He needed to stop Harry. “I… I’ll be right back.” He started for the window.

“Where are you going?”

“To stop that young man from making the biggest mistake of his life.” Harry would kill Norman and then he’d never forgive himself for it. He’d feel guilty about it. Peter knew what it meant. Harry may hate Norman for what he’s done, but they were still family.

“Why?” Peter closed his eyes. What could he tell her to make her understand that this _had_ to be done? Norman didn’t deserve Peter’s protection. “Peter…” His body went rigid and he turned back to her. She knew…? How…? “Where are you _going,_ Peter?”

He turned back to the window, leaning on the sill. “I’m going to stop Harry,” he told her. It made sense that she knew. He hadn’t been discreet in the past few weeks before his disappearance. How long had she known? Or had she just figured it out right in that second?

“Why?” she asked. He knew why she was asking. Peter should hate Norman. She probably hated Norman. Harry killing him would be justice… would be what he deserved.

“Because,” he whispered though the lump forming in his throat. “Life’s not fair…”


	20. Gives you Hell

> Chapter Twenty: Gives you Hell

Peter stood with his back to the wall, hugging his arms to his chest, holding his elbows and resting his foot on the wall behind him. The hospital room was dark despite the fact that it was during the day. The dark clouds gathering outside were causing the room to be darker than it should be. He looked down and his eyes traced the subtle splatter pattern on the times of the cold floor. May wasn’t talking and he wasn’t either. Harry would probably already at Oscorp, but he didn’t want to go unless he had his aunt’s blessing to leave.

“How long have you known?” he asked finally.

She sighed. “I… I suppose I _always_ knew,” she whispered. Her voice was soft and frail. The heart monitor beeped quietly, filling the silence between them. “I just didn’t want to accept it. I didn’t want you to be him… but the signs were there.”

Peter didn’t lift his eyes. He hated that he had done this to her. He had made her worry and had made her keep secrets from her… had made her distance herself from him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the near silent room. The words barely left his mouth before they were swallowed up by the silence. She didn’t answer him for several minutes and he worried that she didn’t hear his tiny admission of guilt. “I didn’t want to do this,” he continued. “I wanted to do something else with these powers… something less dangerous. But I made a mistake and…” he trailed off, swallowing his guilt. She didn’t need to know. Not now.

“I’m proud of you,” she said after a moment. “I wanted to discourage you from doing it, but I’m so proud of you, Peter.” She looked at him and he met her eyes with a tired expression. “But this… I can’t condone this.”

“Harry’s about to make the biggest mistake of his life. He may be mad at Mr. Osborn right now, but one day he’ll wake up from his revenge driven rage and he’s going to regret this.” He took a step towards the bed. “I hate Norman Osborn, and I wouldn’t shed a tear if he died, but Harry doesn’t deserve to carry that guilt the rest of his life.” _Not like I have,_ he added silently.

May sighed. “When did you get so wise?”

He smiled. “I had a good role model. I’ll be right back. I just gotta take care of this thing.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay… I love you, Peter.”

“I love you, too.” And then he was gone. He hurried back to his house and as he ran, he picked up his phone and dialed Gwen. “Hey,” he said once she answered. “Can you please go to the hospital?”

“Yeah… sure…” she said. Her voice was laced with worry. “What happened?”

“May was attacked,” he explained as he climbed up the steps to their apartment. “And I don’t want her to be alone.”

“What are you doing?” She sighed deeply. “Pete… you’re supposed to be in the hospital, too. Are you out there in costume?”

He paused before answering. May’s blood splattered the wall outside their apartment, and he tried to ignore it as he stepped inside to get his webshooters. “Harry’s going to do something really stupid,” he told her with a soft sigh. “And I have to stop him.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Gwen whispered.

He nodded, and then he was glad that she couldn’t see him. Instead of confirming her words, he smiled and made sure his voice reflected the grin. “Come on, Gwen… It’s Harry. He did all this _for_ me. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

Gwen was quiet for a moment. She probably wasn’t convinced. He couldn’t say he blamed her. If everything they had gone through told him anything, it was that things were never as they seemed. Harry was in a bad place and Peter wasn’t sure he could bring him back from that brink.

“Please, Gwen. I don’t want May to be alone.”

She sighed. “Alright. I’ll… I’ll be right there.”

He nodded. “Thanks. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“Okay.” She hung up and he held the phone to his ear, listening to nothing. He shook his head and pocketed the phone before jumping from the window, swinging away. His arms were weak and he felt ill, but he needed to do this. He needed to stop Harry from killing Norman; if only to save Harry from himself.

The swing to Oscorp left him nearly exhausted. He didn’t want to think about it as he ran up the side of the building. This wasn’t going to be a fight. It couldn’t be. He’d just talk his friend down. Norman would find justice. He _had_ to, but this wasn’t the way to go about it. When he got to the penthouse, he took a moment to survey the scene. Harry had Norman dead to rights. The man was sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, talking rapidly to his son as a gun was held in his direction.

Peter punched through the glass and fired a web, grabbing the gun and then webbing it to the wall on the other side. Harry spun and narrowed his eyes at Peter. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving you,” Peter explained. “Don’t do this, Harry.”

“Please, son.”

“Shut up!” Harry snapped. He shook his head. “You need to leave, Pete.”

Peter held up his hands and walked towards Harry slowly. One wrong move and this would all go wrong. He didn’t want to web up his friend if he could avoid it, though. “I’m not leaving,” he whispered. “You think this will make things better.”

“It will,” Harry argued.

He shook his head. “It won’t.”

Harry pointed forcefully at his father. “You can’t… you can’t seriously be defending him!”

Peter stopped his forward movement, holding his palms to Harry. He didn’t want to give the other boy a reason to attack if he could avoid it. “I can…” he whispered. “You dad will have his day in court. This isn’t how we do things.”

“This isn’t how _you_ do things,” Harry argued. “And that’s fine. I’ll be the dark to your light.” He nodded vigorously. His enthusiasm broke Peter’s heart. He didn’t seem to know what was wrong. “I’ll take care of the messy parts of this job so you don’t have to.”

Peter looked to Norman, silently begging him. He didn’t know what was wrong with Harry. He didn’t know what had happened to his friend. Norman offered nothing. Instead, he was trying to inch away from the brewing fight. Damn coward. Peter turned back to Harry, shaking his head. “What happened?” he whispered.

“I learned that the life I thought I had was nothing but a lie,” Harry snapped. “Dad built this company on blood and suffering!”

“Then don’t continue that tradition,” Peter begged.

Harry reached down and grabbed Norman’s jacket, pulling him to his feet. Peter ran at the two. Instead of tackling Harry, he wrapped his arms around Norman, dragging him down. As they fell, he bucked at Harry like a mule, sending him flying to the wall.

“Thank you,” Norman whispered to Peter. There was no apology in his eyes. Nothing. Peter didn’t know what he had been expecting. Did he think the man would rethink everything just because the kid he had kidnapped and tortured had come back to save his life? Maybe a part of him did… but now he knew better. Norman didn’t care. He never cared.

“Go,” he hissed. He didn’t like protecting Norman, but it was his job, and he was going to do it. The man scrambled away as Peter stood to face Harry. “Don’t make me do this,” he begged softly.

“I can’t let him hurt anyone else.”

Peter shook his head. “And I can’t let _you_ hurt anyone else.” He ran at Harry and tackled his friend to the ground. Harry grabbed Peter’s suit and yanked him off, throwing him to the couch. Peter landed on the cushions with a soft grunt. Something had happened. The way he moved was stronger than it should be. Harry wasn’t an experienced fighter, though. Six weeks ago, he could have ended this fight already. Today, however, he was exhausted and weak from five weeks of confinement.

_Thanks Norman…_ he thought as he stumbled to his feet. _You made it harder for me to protect you._

Harry didn’t attack Peter as they stood on opposite sides of the living room. He still didn’t want to hurt Peter. “I don’t get you,” Harry said, looking away. “He hurt you. He did more than hurt you.”

“He’ll have his day in court,” Peter argued.

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “No, he won’t! He’s not going down for your kidnapping! He’s working with the damn mob, Peter!”

He cocked his head. _That_ was news. “What…?” His tone was flat. “What are you talking about?”

“The deal with the docks. That wasn’t for Fisk, it was for Manfredi.”

“Manfredi…” A shiver went through Peter’s spine. All of this… connected? And he had merely stumbled onto this web like it was nothing. He laughed. It was all he could do. This was what it meant to have bad luck, it seemed. All of this could have gone down without a hitch had he not stopped one simple mugging all those months ago. Fisk would be in prison, Norman would have what he wanted and Manfredi would have the docks, and Peter’s life wouldn’t be a tangled mess.

Harry took advantage of Peter’s stunned silence and he lunged at Peter, dragging him back to down the sofa. Peter kicked out, throwing him to the ceiling and then firing a web and yanking him down. The ground cracked around where Harry impacted. Peter could have thrown him through the floor, but he wasn’t trying to hurt Harry too much.

“I don’t understand!” Harry shouted from where he lay. His voice was shrill and it cracked with the force of the shout. Peter took a step towards him. His spider sense jumped up a split second before Harry came at him with a powerful haymaker, throwing to, and then through, the wall. His senses came back in time for him to realize that he was falling.

As he fell, Peter fumbled with his webshooters. He shot down and a little to the left, creating a pendulum so that he wouldn’t simply stop his momentum as he fell. The line went taut and he held on as his downward momentum turned into a swing. He coiled his body and at the top of the arc, he released, propelling himself back up the building to the penthouse.

Harry was gone. Peter cursed as he ran through the room to where he had seen Norman run to. Most likely he had gone down to his lab. Peter forced open the elevator and jumped down. The last place he wanted to go was back to Norman’s lab. But he had a job to do. The elevator came at him and he hit it before ripping a hole and jumping into it.

The woman inside screamed. He ignored her as he pressed the button for the next floor and it opened, letting him out. Once it was gone, he jumped back into the shaft and then used webbing to slow his fall before landing heavily on the floor below. Forcing the door open, he jumped into the lab.

A primal sense of fear washed over him. A wave of nausea took his stomach and bile filled this throat. For a moment, he was nothing more than a small child facing the darkness of his closet. There was nothing that could hurt him there anymore; but he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread.

A loud shout followed by the breaking of glass broke him out of his stupor and he turned to see Harry chasing after Norman as he ran through the lab. There were more things in here that could make this fight a bit more even for Mr. Osborn and that wasn’t what any of them wanted. Norman stopped and grabbed a gun from underneath one of the desks, aiming it at Harry. “Son, I don’t want to hurt you!” he begged.

Peter didn’t give Harry time to answer that. He ran at the Goblin and kicked him away, sending him flying through beakers. Liquid spilled on the floor and Peter turned to Norman. “What’s wrong with him?” he snapped.

Norman sighed. “He took an experimental serum.”

“And you _let_ him?” Peter couldn’t believe how stupid Norman had been.

The man narrowed his eyes. “He did it for _you._ If anyone is to blame for this, it’s you.” Peter shook his head. He didn’t want to argue the point. Harry was going to recover soon. “That’s why I left you alive,” he continued. “I thought something in your blood would help counteract the serum in his bloodstream.”

“Gee, thanks,” Peter grumbled. He turned back to Harry. The sound of footsteps caught his attention and he saw Norman flee out of the corner of his eye.

As Norman ran, Harry stumbled to his feet, slamming his hand on the unbroken table beside him. He lifted his face slowly to look at Peter. His Spider sense shot up as his eyes met Harry’s. There was something in his eyes. Something feral… violent. Dead… “Everything…” he gasped. His usually brown eyes were green. “I did this all… to protect you! And this… This is how you repay me?”

Peter took a step back. Was this what Norman had meant? Was this the serum’s doing? Or did he always feel this way? “Harry… I want to help you now,” he tried.

Harry seemed to not be in the mood because he ran at Peter, tackling him through the wall behind them. They fell through shelves lined with beakers. Green fluid fell on them as Harry proceeded to throw punch after punch at Peter. At first, he tried to take it. Maybe letting Harry get his frustration and anger out; but as the beating continued, the punches got harder. Harry wasn’t playing around. And then his senses wouldn’t let him take it anymore.

Without thinking about it, he bucked, throwing Harry away from him. He stumbled to his feet, holding his stomach. Six weeks ago, he would have finished this by now. But Harry was in better shape. Peter shot webs and pulled down some of the remaining shelves in Harry. He just wanted to knock him out. Harry screamed in rage and threw broken glass at Peter before he ran at his friend.

Then they entered a fist fight. He hadn’t wanted to get involved in close range combat with Harry. Harry was in better shape than Peter was, making dodging hard. His friend’s attacks were hard and powerful. Peter dodged and weaved around the attacks, but he was slowing down Harry didn’t seem to be missing a step. If anything, the angrier he got, the more powerful he seemed to gain. It was all Peter could do to keep up with the attacks and the parries.

Eventually, he lost his footing. His legs had grown weak and he had taken one too many hits. The final straw was the spilled serum coating the floor. He lost his grip on the ground and went down hard. Harry was on top of him in seconds. Instead of punching, he grabbed shards of glass and stabbed at Peter.

His struggles grew weaker as the stabs came faster. He needed to end this or Harry would end him. He wrapped his hand around the closest shard. Stabbing wasn’t something he liked to do. He mustered up the last of his strength and drove the shard into Harry’s neck. He didn’t go deep and he made sure to avoid the jugular.

Harry screamed and clawed at his throat while Peter scrambled away. He managed to get on his hands and knees, and he tore his mask off, coughing up blood and wheezing. “Leave it… in!” he shouted at Harry when he managed to get enough air in his lungs. He slowly worked his way to an untouched shelf and he pulled himself up. Harry writhed on the floor and Peter did nothing until the writhing became weaker, and then stopped all together.

Peter stared at Harry, unable to do anything. “Are you…?” he asked finally.

Harry shut his eyes tightly. “Everything… I did it all… for _you,”_ he said with a shaking voice. Peter bowed his head. “And this is how you repay me?”

“I didn’t ask you to do it,” he tried to argue. It wasn’t what Harry probably wanted to hear, but he needed to hear it. He closed his eyes, leaning on the shelf. It was the only reason he could stay standing. “I didn’t want you to do any of this.”

“Does it matter?” Harry asked.

Peter shook his head. “No… I suppose it doesn’t.” He looked over to Harry. “Harry…” he started.

“No,” he snapped weakly. “No… you don’t get to talk to me! You don’t get to _lecture_ me! I don’t get you, Pete! My dad—”

“I didn’t do it for your dad!” Peter snapped, finally hearing enough. “I didn’t come here to save Mr. Osborn! I came here to save _you!_ ” Harry flinched. “You need help, Harry…”

“No… I don’t! I’m fine!”

Peter couldn’t help it. He laughed. It was a loud, boisterous sound that was entirely out of place. The second the sound came out of his mouth, he felt bad about it… but not enough to stop it. “Fine?” he laughed. “I’m so _sick_ of that word! You’re not _fine!_ ” He pointed to his own chest. “ _I’m_ not fine!” He gestured to the destroyed room. He was bleeding. He had stabbed Harry in the neck. They had been _friends_. Now he didn’t know what they were. “None of this is fine, Harry!” He took a step towards Harry.

“If you tell them what happened… They’ll arrest me!”

Peter nodded. He had thought about that. “I promise you… I will make sure you get the best help.”

“No, Peter! I can’t…”

“Face consequences for your actions?” Peter finished. “I’m sorry, Harry…”

“You can’t turn me in, Pete!”

Peter bowed his head, clenching the mask in his hands. Before long, police sirens could be heard. Norman must have called him. He put the mask back over his head and started for the door.

“Peter!” Harry shouted after him. He didn’t look back. Harry needed help; help that Peter couldn’t give him. “Damn you, Peter Parker!”


	21. Not As We

 

> Epilogue: Not As We

Peter stumbled into the emergency room in a daze. Harry’s beating had left him confused and weak. Somewhere on his trip to the hospital, he had removed his suit and had discarded it. It was destroyed and he had another one back home. His body was covered in blood and bruises, and he had on a dirty t-shirt that he had dug out of the dumpster that he had thrown his suit away in.

“Sir?” a nurse called. He didn’t even flinch as he stumbled through the busy ER. He pitched forward and fell onto the nurses’ desk. The fall reopened one of his wounds and blood soaked though the shirt and onto the papers on the desk. He collapsed to the ground. The nurse was calling for a gurney, but he heard none of it. Blood pounded in his ears and he closed his eyes against the deafening drumming. For how weak he felt, it didn’t seem like he should be able to hear his heart pound that much.

The doctors poked and prodded him, and he felt nothing. He didn’t lose consciousness fully throughout the process of getting checked. They tried to ask him questions, but all he could do was moan in response.

By the time they felt good enough to leave him alone, he was cleaned and given a gown. Hours went by in a fuzzy haze where he played in the line between unconscious and conscious. Eventually, that haze cleared and he could finally see. The person he wanted to see wasn’t there. Instead, Gwen was standing in the doorway. When he tried to sit up, her breath caught. “Stay down,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

He knew before she told him. The way her face paled when she realized that he was coherent. The way she hung back and couldn’t get a sentence out without choking on her words. He knew before she said anything… but he _made_ her say it. May was dead. He looked down at his hands. “When?” he whispered.

“Two hours ago,” Gwen answered in a hushed voice. His stomach lurched and he clenched his hands, holding the heels to his forehead. He opened his mouth in a silent scream. It hurt, despite no sound coming from his throat. He wouldn’t even know what sound to make if he could. She hung back and he appreciated it. He was now an orphan.

 

 Norman stood, staring through a two-way mirror at his son, locked away like some caged animal. This wasn’t what he had wanted. This wasn’t what he had fought for. “I should have killed Peter when I had the chance,” he whispered to no one. Harry couldn’t hear him. He was recovering well from Peter’s attack; physically. The doctors told him that mentally, he would never be the same. Norman put his hand on the glass and closed his eyes, shutting them tightly. Peter would pay for this.

“Sir?” Bernard whispered as he stepped into the small room. “The press conference…”

Norman sighed and smoothed his suit down as he stepped away from the glass. “Right,” he said with a soft cough. The drive back to Oscorp was quiet. Everything he had done had been for the betterment of his family; and this was no different. He had once thought of Peter Parker as a son. Now he couldn’t even look at him.

As the limo pulled up to the building, Norman stepped out amongst camera shutters and shouting. He stood on the podium and gave a list of reasons why he was cutting ties with Star Labs. He then addressed the deal with Fisk, offering his condolences that his new business partner hadn’t turned out any better than the criminals that ran the streets of this city.

His last order of business was the hardest and he clenched his fists. “For those who don’t know, in my home, my _son_ was attacked by Spider-man last week. The attack has left him scarred and terrified.” The voice he used was one of righteous anger. “I will not rest until Spider-man has faced justice for this crime and every crime he’s committed in this city! Too long have we been compliant to costumed freaks running this city! It’s time we treat them like the criminals, the menaces, they are!”

 

The funeral for May Parker was a small service paid for by a private benefactor. Peter had his theories about who had paid for it, but he couldn't prove it. The service was small and when he gave the small eulogy for his aunt, he tried not to look at their faces. This was his fault and he couldn't begin to tell them how sorry he was that he was the reason they were here. 

After the service, Peter tried to drink something. He hadn't eaten since being released from the hospital and Gwen and her uncle were getting worried about him, He didn't want them to worry. He didn't want anyone to worry. "Peter Parker..." 

He flinched and held the drink tighter, looking away as Captain Watanabe walked towards him. "Good evening, Captain," he whispered. "Congratulations on your promotion,"

She nodded. "Thank you." She looked him over and her strained smile faded away to a worried frown. "How are you holding up?"

"With my legs," Peter muttered. She didn't seem amused by his joke. He sipped at the water absently. "I'm..." He almost said "fine." But he had been right. That word was stupid. He wasn't fine and he wouldn't be for a while. "I think I'll be okay."

Her worried expression gave way to a warm smile. "Walk with me, Peter." He nodded, happy for the chance to get away from the small crowd of people all offering their condolences. He caught Gwen's gaze and she smiled at him as he left the church after Watanabe. Neither spoke for a few minutes. It wasn't raining. He felt like it should be raining, but he didn't make a snide comment about it. "So..." she said at length. "You're Spider-man." It wasn't a question. She dropped it like she wasn't even searching for confirmation. She just knew.

"Wh-what...? No..." She lifted an eyebrow, daring him to try and deny it. He looked away. What was the point? He was going to hang up the mask anyway. It had taken everything from him. "Are you going to arrest me?" he asked at length.

"No." The word came as a surprise. "Captain Stacy believed in you... believed in Spider-man. He always thought the best of the web crawler. I'd be disrespecting his memory if I brought you in." She looked up at the blue sky. "He thought you were doing good work out there, kid..."

"I'm done with that good work," Peter grumbled. She turned to look down at him. "Spider-man's given me nothing but trouble. I've lost everything because of him. My family... my best friend... all because I put on the mask."

She was quiet for a long moment. So long that Peter thought she wasn't going to say anything. When she did speak, her voice was quiet. "You may have lost a lot because of the mask, but think about the people you saved from losing everything. You've done good work in this city, Peter."

He scoffed. "Is it wrong to want to good in my own life?" He clenched his fists. "Is it wrong to be selfish?"

"No. But  _are_ you selfish?"

He looked down at the sidewalk. He had been selfish once, and he had lost Ben to that selfishness. "I don't want to be..." 

She nodded. "Look, if you give up the mask, that's on you." She rested her hand on his shoulder. "No one would blame you, Peter. You don't deserve the pain that it's caused you. However... if you do decide to wear it again, you will always have an ally in the NYPD. If you work with the police instead of against us, you can accomplish so much more."

He smiled. He didn't know if he wanted to wear the mask again, but it was good to know that someone was there to support him...

 

Spider-man didn’t return to the streets for month. Peter perched himself on a gargoyle, staring down at the city below. He had recovered… physically. Mentally, he didn’t know when, or even if, he’d ever recover. Norman was going insane trying to find him; waiting for Spider-man to make his reappearance. Peter was going to throw the mask away and never put it on again. Norman couldn’t touch Peter Parker. All he could do was wait for Spider-man.

He didn’t know why he was back with a slightly different suit design. Maybe it was because he was going crazy without it. Maybe it was because he had accepted the powers, so he still had to accept the responsibility despite not wanting it.

“Peter?” Gwen whispered, walking on the ledge behind him. Even though he had disappeared, Ghost Spider had been active. Maybe she was the reason he was back out there. Norman would eventually go after her to get to him. She needed him… or maybe he needed her. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he admitted, “but I think I will be…” He stood from his crouched position. “You know… it’s funny.”

“Hm?”

“We try our best, and we still end up in places like this.”

Gwen smiled as she pulled the mask over her face. “It’s all any of us can do,” she said with a shrug. “Our best is all we have to give. And sometimes that’s just not good enough. We can’t beat ourselves up over it.”

“I can,” he said with a shrug. May’s death had sent him into a spiral of depression. He had felt like he had lost everything. She was the only good thing left in his life and she had held out her hand, waiting with it outstretched for as long as it took for him to be ready to take it. And when he had grasped it, she had pulled him out of that spiral. He couldn’t say he was over it, but thinking about May wasn’t nearly as painful anymore. It still hurt, but it was a dull burn in the bottom of his stomach. “Norman’s going to make our lives difficult,” he muttered to Gwen.

“Yep.” She came to join him on the gargoyle and looked out over the city with him. “Are we going to let that stop us?”

He looked across the buildings that he had gotten used to seeing from here. It was good to be back, but at the same time, it made his stomach lurch. “What about Harry?”

She sighed. “One day at a time, Peter…” He closed his eyes and felt the wind whip over his head. “One day at a time…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... this was actually a really fun fiction to write! I'm sad to see it go, though... 
> 
> Right now, I have no plans to continue this story. I know a lot is left to the imagination, but I had never planned on writing a sequel. If someone else wants to, just send me a link. Haha!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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